Sweet Child of Mine
by PrettyPrettyPlease
Summary: Cut off from his family all his adult life, Arthur's not much of a family man and that proved detrimental to his marriage. But when his brother dies and his 8 year old niece shows up on his doorstep, he's obligated to become her caretaker. Can this little girl make Arthur see in a whole new light? And can she help bring Arthur and Ariadne together? T for language. Cameos by team.
1. Married To a Teddy Bear

**Sweet Child of Mine  
>Chapter 1: Married to a Teddy Bear<strong>

It was a particularly slow morning for the invincible Point Man. His last job wrapped a month prior in Austria with another a half a year to go before his next gig in Dallas, TX. Due to a rumored sting operation in mind crime that resonated from the upper Manhattan area, he declined several requests for recon work during his down time. He was certain his research, ip address and the like couldn't be hacked much less tracked because of his impeccable ability to cloak his online activity but was wisely being careful of the clients involved in case any of them were working as part of the sting. Without any real duties to speak of it was safe to say Arthur was going slightly stir crazy. He took to organizing his book collection in the study and then rearranging and organizing his file cabinets full of contacts. His clients (former, recent, current), Extractors, fellow Points, Architects, Chemists, Forgers. People on the 'hire' list and people on the 'hit' list. Who to work with, who to avoid. It was another way of keeping his tracks covered when going into prospective jobs. A Point Man's version of spring cleaning. Before he got set to continue work on that task that morning, Arthur made himself a scrambled egg and a cup of coffee and sat down in front of CNN. The newscasters were hounding each other in a heated debate about the debt ceiling. A debate Arthur hardly paid attention to. He was fixing to grab the remote and change the channel to a more relaxing morning show when there was a knock on his apartment door.

You can imagine how strange that was for someone to be calling on the man. He had no friends but Dom and Eames. He hadn't spoken to Eames in a while and Dom_ always_ let Arthur know ahead of time if he was going to drop by because he knew Arthur liked time to make his place guest-tidy. Only his family—and by family, we also mean only the closest semi-circle of family members within in his family—knew the location. But since his family had basically shunned him because of his chosen profession, they wouldn't be the ones to visit. No one he worked with, no one from the coffee shop, not even the pizza delivery man, the mail man, knew exactly where Arthur lived. But it wasn't a person visiting someone else in the building who'd mistaken the room number either. The entire floor minus the thin hallway between the elevator and his front door was Arthur's penthouse. Always suspecting the worst, the Point Man gravely shut the tv off, rested his hand on the gun in his waistband and padded quietly to the door. He didn't say a word. Nor look through the peephole. He stood to the side of the door where the hinges were and listened for movement. All he got were small knocks that came from halfway down the door. It was then that he looked out the peephole but couldn't see anyone. With his hand still touching his gun, he swung the door a quarter of the way open, "Hello?"

"Hi?" It was an innocent (looking) little girl with brown hair. The wispies at the nape of her neck and the ones that framed her face were coiling up from the humidity outside. It was a very hot July in New York. She looked tired and thirsty and like maybe she'd been walking or running. She had fair-ish skin but it was flushed from her exertion. Her outfit was quite extravagant: A white tee with quarter-sized cartoon elephants printed all over it in green, blue, yellow and red. It was tucked into a yellow cotton skirt which was adorned with a stretchy bright blue belt clasped together by a flower. The belt matched her bright blue ruffled shin socks but not the white (or once white) converses. Apparently she had a backpack on (the straps over her shoulders provided _another _unnecessary pop of color) but he couldn't see it. Some bubbly looking, pink and white polka dotted rolling suitcase was propped to her right, handle still raised (and almost as tall as she was) and a generously sized matching duffel (which looked so stuffed, the zippers might burst open any second) sat on her left.

Perplexed, he jumped to the most plausible conclusion. "I'm sorry. I don't need any friendship headbands or girl scout donuts today." Especially if she was carrying donuts in that duffel. Surely they were squished and melted and downright nauseating if even remotely intact. As politely as he could, he went to close the door on her.

Her tiny hand shot out and slapped his door, "Wait! Are you Arthur Nolan?"

"Yes?" It may have been a little girl but the subject of his name got him wary and suspicious. His hand grazed over the weapon concealed in his waistband again as he quickly surveyed the hallway. Was she a distraction? A plot to lure him out so he could be taken down? People were tricky; he wouldn't put it past some sicko from Cobol to manipulate a kid.

The little girl's eyes widened at seeing the handle of the gun. But she swallowed, adjusted her flower belt courageously and continued, "My dad's your brother. Or _was_…" she added sadly. "Gregory? You remember him?"

Greg. He hadn't spoken to Greg since Arthur decided to come clean to their mother about dreamshare and the family told him to quit or cut all ties. He was barely twenty-one the last time he saw Greg in person. Their dad was a retired general and connected with some higher ups in the military. With the knowledge of Arthur's exceptional skill to find information on anyone and anything, their dad used his position to put a block on the entire family's records, accounts, social media pages. There was nothing too small. If it pertained to their family, it was protected from Arthur. That was the deal. If Arthur wanted to continue on in that illegal manipulation he called work then in exchange for their silence about his dealings, he had to forfeit all of them. It was mostly to keep them safe should anyone hunt for revenge using Arthur's family but also so their father could keep his pristine reputation. Now some years ago, a sliver of information on Greg had slipped through the cracks by a mutual friend of the brothers' (before the friend was told and warned not to open his mouth or associate with Arthur again). The Point Man had learned that Greg married a woman named Sydney—the sister of one of his Coastguard buddies—and together they had a daughter. Nothing else since. That is until news that his brother and wife had died in a freak accident about a year ago. Arthur's father had the decency to purchase a disposable phone and leave a message on Arthur's machine to inform him. The story aligned…

"What's your name, kid?"

"Chloe Marie Talesco." She grinned knowingly. A grin that looked creepily like his and Greg's, "Talesco like _your real_ last name." Chloe looked up at the metal plate by the door with his fake name engraved on it, "Why'd you change it?"

Arthur didn't hear her last question. He was still reeling from the fact that this kid knew let alone _shared_ his true last name. It was a solid piece of proof that she was indeed family, if that was truly her name. If she hadn't found it out and slapped in on the back of her first and middle names to outwit him. The Point Man couldn't necessarily ask for an id because children don't have one. It was as if the girl had read his mind (or his face) and knew he didn't believe her one hundred percent yet. Chloe pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and held it up for him.

It wasn't a birth certificate but it was a boarding pass. Airlines were very specific about traveling minors, no doubt traveling minors without accompaniment. It must've been authorized. The name on the ticket matched the one she told him exactly. The date matched the date. Her birthday marked her as eight years old. And her departure location was San Diego, CA where his family was located (last he knew, but he was nearly certain they hadn't moved). Arthur gave her an incredulous look. One that she ignored as she squeezed between his doorway and his side, "Can I stay with you for a while?"

"Can you—" Arthur stammered as he twisted around to watch her _ladybug _backpack swing off her shoulders in the middle of his living room floor. What in the hell was happening? Wide eyes, gaping mouth, "Where'd you come from?"

Chloe pointed at him as she jumped back onto the couch, "It says it on the ticket. Duh. I flew in from California."

Arthur glanced down at the ticket again and laid it on the table in his foyer next to the bowl of keys and change, "Have you been living with mom and da—I mean—grandma and grandpa or—whatever you call them?"

Pursing her lips, the little girl avoided his gaze and ran her hands along the smooth leather of the arm rest, "They sent me here for ballet camp but I want to run away." Arthur sympathized in that moment. His parents, especially his father, could be very distant and cold. His mother tried to be softer but she too was oblivious to the feelings of children. How do people think Arthur became emotionally stinted? Closed off? He was raised that way. That was all he knew. His father was in the military and he and his brother were treated as tiny soldiers their entire childhood. He was sure they hadn't been very comforting in light of Greg's funeral. The senior Mr. and Mrs. Talesco most likely retreated further into themselves in their grief and left little Chloe to deal with the emotional trauma on her own. Still, if his parents knew he'd come in contact with the family (even if he wasn't the initiator) their deal might be considered broken. His father might leak his name and dream criminal reputation to the authorities. "You shouldn't be here. How did you find me?"

"A lot of time, under the blankets, on the internet," shrugged the kid, walking her fingers along his coffee table. "It was easy using your real name. You use a credit card under 'Art N. Talesco' in the city a lot." Holy shit. The tiny intelligence connoisseur… The gene must run strong as an ox in the Talesco line. Greg no doubt taught Chloe a lot of information about computers and children these days are natural with technology, it was only fitting a tiny Talesco would be a groomed hacker and researcher at age…what was she six, seven? Arthur and Greg practically came out of the womb hacking into the pentagon. If it weren't for the unsettling idea that a small child could find the supposedly non-existent Point Man, he would be impressed. He never got around to teaching—never mind. At the forefront of his mind was, "You can't stay here."

"I already canceled my room at the camp." Well that was a rash decision thought Arthur. But all of a sudden her overwhelming, aimless, spunk screeched to a halt. She looked worried, eyes welling up, "Where else will I go?"

No, no, no for heaven sakes don't let the kid cry…Arthur was already having to deal with the fact that he was so rusty that a _kid_ could find him (she's one of the like five people who know your real name, Arthur, it _should've_ been easy for her), he wasn't ready to deal with going soft _too_. "My place isn't exactly kid proof…" winced the Point Man. Was he a horrible person? She was blood. This was his brother's child. His _deceased _brother's child. _His niece _coming to him for—well he didn't know the reason. If it was for solace than she'd be disappointed. He was as bad at comfort and relating to children as his parents were. Even if he used to—never mind.

The little one pouted her lip, "Please. My daddy…" the lip started quivering and she was getting all sad and Arthur didn't particularly want to think about his brother's death and get upset again either— "You're a lot like him. And I just miss him so much…" Pulling out the big guns, wasn't she? Arthur straightened determinedly to keep up the appearance that she wasn't slowly eroding his stance on the matter. "Can't I just get to know you for a little bit? My camp is only seven weeks and then I'll go back if you're tired of me..."

Guilt.  
>The battle was lost.<br>Shit.

_You can't cuss for the next seven weeks. You're gonna have an impressionable midget around._

Begrudgingly, Arthur sighed, "You can stay seven weeks." His reward was an earsplitting, high pitched squeal.

It was ultimately guilt from all sides that pushed him to it. He felt like it was a favor to his brother to get Greg's child out of that bleak, tiresome, old home even if his was scarcely better. It was also guilt for choosing dreamshare over his family. Chloe should know her Uncle Arthur and know him well. He should've been at birthday parties and thanksgiving dinners and brought presents at Christmas all those years his brother was alive. Arthur should've been a major part in the young girl's life. James and Philippa weren't even remotely related to him and they grew up seeing Uncle Arthur all the time. Why didn't his real niece know him like they did? She should've. And she should've been growing up, playing and bonding with her younger cousin—and that's where the real onslaught of guilt came from:

Ender.

Andrew Manning Talesco. But, affectionately, _Ender._

Arthur screwed up being a father to his own child. He chose dreamshare over his own son. If he regretted doing that, he might regret turning another kid related to him away. Regret tended not to hit the Point Man until after the fact. This time he decided to be ahead of the game.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Arthur sat stiffly on the couch, remote in hand, fixedly watching an informative documentary on the history channel about JFK conspiracies. It was a rerun but honestly, he learned something new every time. Every once in a while he would hear the little girl exhale heavily out of boredom and glance sideways at her. Chloe had kicked her shoes off at the bottom of the couch and sat sideways with her back against the armrest, her feet sprawled out on the seat and her chin in her hand. Arthur finally decided to grab her feet and move them to the floor, "Please keep your feet off the furniture." Ender was four when Arthur left. All Arthur had to do was stick him in front of some legos and give him a sippy cup. Surprisingly a—seven, eight, ten?— year old was more demanding.

"Uncle Arthur, I'm hungry." She didn't really whine. It was more of a complaint that she'd justifiably been holding back for three hours now. _How long _was this president show for?

"There's a fridge and a stove two rooms over," he pointed behind the tv system, "Feel free to make yourself something. I think there are spaghetti noodles in the pantry." When she didn't move Arthur looked down expectantly at her. Chloe gave him a dumb look back. Raised eyebrows, a small grimace. She looked at him like he was an alien. "Do you not know how to cook?" he inquired.

Still incredibly perplexed by his very intelligent dumbness, Chloe brought out the point: "Not spaghetti. By myself. I'm eight and a half."

What was it with children and halves? You're one age or another. People need to keep ages simplistic and reasonable. There's no need to clarify halves and quarters and months. Round up or down. Your kid isn't twenty four months, he's two years. Be logical; it takes less time.

Anyway, shouldn't an eight year old be able to do something so simple as boil water, cook pasta, chop onions and garlic and put together a marinara sauce? It wasn't as if he suggested she make filet mignon…but then again that was just cooking meat and then cooking bacon and wrapping it around. Arthur relented. After all, Chloe was a guest no matter how small and young. He turned the tv down, got up and traipsed to his kitchen. A small flick of his wrist behind him was Chloe's cue to follow.

She did so quietly but excitedly. Arthur hadn't given her a tour of the penthouse yet so her eyes roamed all over the walls as they maneuvered around the space. She was in awe of all of it. The sleek lines, the big windows, the way everything was placed in its spot so perfectly, everything almost sparkly from being so clean…It felt like a spy movie and a magazine page and a hospital all in one. Her hands ran along his black granite island, picking futilely at the flecks of silver before pulling herself up onto the barstool as he opened his fridge. "What would you like? An omelet? Fried tilapia?"

"A grilled cheese, please," she smiled.

Arthur paused, "Well that's…awfully plain," he pulled out the butter a package of sliced American cheese, set them on the counter, then went to the pantry for the bread. All he had was artisan, he hoped that was suitable.

Chloe watched him with admiration (he looked like an extraordinarily important person in his suit), her chin in both her hands and her feet swinging. She wondered if her Uncle Arthur was too fancy to have ever made a sandwich…and if that was the reason he looked confused. Like he was trying to guess (or remember) what it was made out of. "Have you never made a grilled cheese?"

"No, I have." Arthur dropped the loaf on the counter and reached under the stove for a frying pan uncomfortably trying to explain, "Just not in a while—my wife—" he mumbled, "My—_She_ loves—_loved_ these."

Chloe's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her gaze darted to his left hand and sure enough there was a band on his ring finger that she hadn't noticed. "You have a wife?" Then curious, she looked over her shoulder and surveyed the apartment for a woman. She was really good at hiding and being quiet if she was there, thought the girl. Maybe she was in Uncle Arthur's bedroom though, asleep or something.

Arthur drizzled oil in careful circles to avoid the small child's stare, "Yes. Well, not really. We're not together anymore," he said stiffly. He wasn't sure why he was opening up and answering questions from an eight (and a half, sorry) year old about his personal life.

The brunette rephrased for him, "So you _don't_ have one."

"Legally I still do," corrected the Point Man. Buttering the bread in as dignified a manner as he could manage, "We were never properly divorced. She just— Yes. Legally, yes."

Chloe knit her eyebrows and thought on it for a good minute. Staring hard at the pan and the hot bubbles of oil that popped off of it. She pursed her lips and declared, "You're confusing, Uncle Arthur." She seemed patient enough watching him stick a slice of bread in. While he let it toast and dropped the cheese on top. Kids were easy to talk to when they were silent. But then she got cheeky and mischievously smiled up at him, "What was her _name_? I bet I could guess it."

"Probably not; it's very unique." Her name was on the tip of his tongue…but he couldn't form the vowels and the consonants. He couldn't put them together and force out the syllables. Arthur hadn't said her name since she left him and took their son—about two years ago—the wound was still too fresh to try. It was too much trouble to even think of her name; he always referred to the woman as Her or She or The Wife or Ender's Mother. Even Mrs. Talesco…But never her name. Rather than dwell on Her for the sake of Chloe's interest he suggested, "I think the program is back on. Why don't you go in the living room and learn about Lee Harvey Oswald? I'll bring this to you."

Chloe was clearly disappointed about not receiving an answer but obeyed and skipped off into the living room. She left Arthur alone with his thoughts. The ones that laid idle on the back plains of his mind until the little girl stirred them up like dust devils.

xxxxxxx

Chloe made a slight detour on her way back to the living room so she could catch a glimpse at more of Uncle Arthur's place. She saw a sleek black bookcase across from her on the wall near Uncle Arthur's doorway and skipped to it. She LOVED to read. There were all kinds of smarty-pants books…with a name like Arthur, he sounded like a genius. After a cursory glance at the direction of the kitchen first, Chloe ran her index along the spines of the books on the shelf at eye level. He had all the volumes of the Encyclopedia and thick textbooks about psychology and dreams. Cool! Weird, but cool! There were some others she couldn't see further up but she could sort of read the titles: Sherlock Holmes and something about Monte Cristo (wasn't that like a type of sandwich?). There wasn't a speck of dust on the entire bookcase either. Her eye caught sight of something shiny on the other side of the room. Some crazy contraption on one of the end tables. It was like five silver balls hanging between two metal things. Just so she wouldn't leave fingerprint smudges she wiped her hand on her shirt then picked one of the balls up and swung into another. The ball on the farthest side swung out but none in the middle moved. And then the first and then the last and then the first and then the last. It was like magic. Whatever that thing was, it was _splendid. _

As soon as Chloe hatched her plan to find the mysterious extra Talesco family member and actually figured out where he lived—(she found a bunch of info on him hidden away in the family library and went from there), she'd hoped and wished and prayed that maybe one day she'd meet him. She pictured what it'd be like. Where he would live. She'd really anticipated him being more warm, welcoming and sweet. More like Daddy. Like—she'd imagined at least a smile and hug when she told him they were related. The girl guessed that since her debut didn't turn out as she hoped, fate was making it up for it by making the place she was staying for the next seven weeks exceed expectations. Everything was perfectly set, the furniture aligned just right, all the surfaces and windows gleamed. Chloe would scream if she thought it wouldn't annoy the solemn man in the kitchen.

Wisely, the girl held it in and used that energy to quietly yet hurriedly tip-toe down the hall beside the kitchen. The first door on the left was locked. The second was a super neat bathroom that reminded her of like—the airport or the cinema. It was all brushed nickel and _automatic. _The sink looked like it was floating off the wall. She jumped in front of the toilet, posed, and then jumped away from it to watch the red light blink and see it flush all by itself. Then played handsies with the sink; slowly sticking her hand under the faucet and then trying to pull them away before they got wet. After her fun with that, Chloe studied herself in the mirror. Uh oh…did she look like that when she came in? Uncle Arthur was so polished, refined and perfect…He probably thought she was some sad orphan kid off the street…Chloe hurriedly combed through her hair with her fingers and re-tucked the ends of her shirt into her skirt before brushing off the front of it. (She had granola bar crumbs from the taxi ride over). Better. Chloe got too excited for her own good, "I'm really _h_e_re_!"

Chloe made sure to turn the light off before dancing into the hallway and sliding down it on her socks with her hands up in the air, her index, thumb and pinky raised to the sky. Abruptly, the little girl tripped and stopped in her tracks. Was something burning?

xxxxxxx

_Ender happily went off playing with his train backpack full of new toys. Ender's mother however was less enthused. She left her bouquet of roses in their wrapper on the counter and her new bracelet in its box beside them. Arthur gave her a goofy look, "What's the matter?" He hugged his wife's waist, "Don't you like your present?"_

"_Where is it?" The woman asked numbly._

_Was she talking about a missing personal item? Her favorite jacket? Her purse? "What are you talking about?"_

"_The job." Arthur's innocent façade fell. "I'm not stupid, Art." He was caught. It was becoming his M.O: Whenever he got an offer from a client, he drowned his wife and son with presents. He took them to dinner or Disneyland. He took Ender to Chuck-E-Cheese. He cooked Mrs. Talesco breakfast in bed and made love to her even more often— like they were going to die. It made him feel better about the months he'd be away. Arthur tried to compensate for the time together they'd lose while he was working. That, and he thought if he made his wife and son increasingly happy, they'd be more forgiving. _

"_Russia. It's just four months." There he went again. Pitching the idea. Making the importance of the job seem overwhelming but the sacrifices he and his small family would have to make for it simple. _

_Nothing was simple about dreamshare. That Mrs. Talesco had come to know very well. "_Four _months?" It was never_ just _the amount of time Arthur stated at first. For at least a month before he physically left, he'd be mentally preoccupied. Arthur would sit in his study or in their bedroom for countless hours doing preliminary research. And then on top of that, after the four months away there was a refractory period. He had to wait at least three weeks to determine whether a job was successful or not and yet another week to check for tails and decide it safe enough to come home. After calculations, this short and frivolous but "_urgent" _job of his would take him away from them for half a year. And that was if everything went according to plan and schedule._

_That woman was too smart for her own good. Arthur winced, "I know, I know…"_

_Hands on her hips, Arthur's wife shook her head at him. Disappointed. "You're going to miss Ender's birthday again."_

"_I was here for the last one," was his attempt at justifying it. _

_The woman got louder, her hands gesturing in the air wildly, "You flew in halfway through his party and were so tired you were _in bed_ by three in the afternoon. And then didn't get out of it again for about a week." _

_Arthur wasn't proud of it. He harbored some guilt in his mind and heart over it. But he wouldn't be working like this forever. He was on his way out. Couldn't she see that? Besides, his abilities were direly needed right now. There was no one like him. The Point Man pinched the bridge of his nose momentarily then took her elbows and pulled her closer, reasoned with her, "Babe, they need me."_

"_You know who else needs you?" She asked sarcastically. A smile she didn't mean. "Your family," then she turned her back on him and stormed to their bedroom._

"_It's just one more job," Arthur followed and reasoned._

"_That's what you said last time." The woman twisted in their doorway and hissed, "And the time before that. And the time before that." Her venom watered down, her eyes softened and she pulled on his tie. Like she could physically keep him there in her and Ender's lives by holding his tie. "You promised you were done."_

"_I—" He was losing his resolve to the power of her eyes. Arthur just needed her to understand. Needed her to love him despite the distance, "I owe these guys. If I don't comply I'm afraid there'll be reper—"_

_His wife let go of his tie and took a step back, hardening again. She didn't know why she tried. She knew everything he was going to say. This conversation had been had enough times she could recite it in her sleep, "Repercussions for me and Ender. How thoughtful of you. That may have worked the first three hundred times but I'm sick of hearing it now." Arthur huffed. He watched her angrily unzip and step out of her dress and into their closet. Despite the heat of the argument, he admired her beauty. Was mesmerized by it. The woman spat at him from inside the walk-in amidst the sound of drawers opening and closing and hangers tinkling. "You think I don't miss it too? You think I don't crave Somnacin or that I don't doodle mazes on every scrap of paper I can find?" _

_If she missed it too…then there was an easy, brilliant solution to this fighting. They could both jump back into it; they could both work together, spend all that time together again. "Do you want to go back to dreaming? I can make it happen. We can leave Ender with Miles or your parents."_

"_Do you hear yourself?" Appalled, she marched back out of the closet in her silk pajama pants and bra. "We're not _both_ leaving and pushing him off on someone else for four months so we can go selfishly gallivant in dreams." The t-shirt in her hand was yanked over her head and onto her body as a punctuation. A finality in her rejection. "When did _I _become the responsible one?"_

_Arthur racked his brain for another plausible answer. How could he make their marriage work? How could he keep his wife from being upset with him all the time? How could he make it up to her? "Then we'll take turns. You go and I'll look after him while you're gone. Will that make you happy?"_

"_No!" Ender's mother snatched her puddle of a dress off the ground and went to hang it up, "I gave that up for a life with you. I'm a parent. I can't go back to that now, not while he's growing up." Arthur padded to the doorway of their closet and leant against the frame. Dejected about her refusal. Feeling guilty—yet again. Especially when she looked at him incredulously with an undertone of hurt, "You make our son sound like a pet. Do you love him at all?" _

_Arthur was offended by that. She and Ender were the two most important people on earth to him. He truly loved them with everything he had. The Point Man gaited into the closet with her, defending himself and pulling her into his arms, "Hey. You know I do." He did his best to reassure her by rubbing his nose against her temple, "I love the two of you _so much_."_

"_You make me wonder…" The man was moved off and avoided. _

_Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at her, "Don't act like that."_

"_How do you expect me to act?" A pair of socks was yanked out of one of the drawers and for the fourth time that night, Arthur's wife paced away from him in anger, "You've been home two months. ONLY two months. And you're fixing to up and leave us again." The woman refused to look at him as she sat on their bed and shoved on her socks one by one. The injury inflicted on her at the thought of him leaving them again was evident in her voice. The pain of THEIR son feeling like hers and hers alone was even harder to bear. "Ender's almost five and he barely knows who you are."_

_That was nonsense. Ender ran to the door and hugged him when he came in from trips. Ender still asked him for apple juice and to play cars with him. Ender listened to him when Arthur scolded him. Smiled when Arthur complimented a drawing. Ender called Arthur dad for heaven sakes. "He's knows I'm his dad." _

_The woman deadpanned, "He thinks 'Dad' is part of your name. He calls you 'Arthur Dad.' It's not an endearment, he's confused." Then she emphasized as the bed dipped under his weight next to her, "He is _our _child, Arthur. Your own flesh and blood. You can't treat him like you do James and Philippa. You can't visit three times a year with presents and expect to have the relationship the two of you should. He sees all these other little boys whose dads pick them up from kindergarten and take them to tee-ball and wonders why his daddy isn't here to do that." _

_Arthur sighed. It's not that he didn't want to do those things. It's not that he didn't care about Ender…he changed his diapers and all but he had a difficult job. He had to be away a lot. "I know I need to be a better father…" he whispered, "and a better husband. And I will be."_

_It sounded like the beginning of a promise. The start of something new…like he was finally going to give in and put her and Ender first. But it turns out he was promising to put them first by putting them second. "Once this is all settled, I'll—" It made Arthur's wife dissolve into tears. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands._

_And you can imagine that her reaction made Arthur melt into a puddle. He pulled her into a hug, rubbed her arm and kissed the top of her head. Instead of refusing him, she let him hold her. Too weakened by sad realization and her regret over loving him so damn much. He tried to soothe, "…Baby, come on." _

"_I can't do this anymore," wept the woman._

"_You won't have to." Arthur peppered her with kisses of apology. Kisses of compromise. Her cheeks, her neck, "You won't have to anymore, Sweetheart." He kissed her palm, "Just let me do this_ last_ extraction." _

_His wife halfway believed him. She had a glimmer of hope in the words before 'last extraction.' That's what he always said. Every time he said those two words, it was a lie. There was always another one. He was always needed. She was in love with an addict. A workaholic. He couldn't give up the world of dreamshare. Not for her or their child._

_Arthur couldn't sacrifice that part of himself._

_Arthur's wife, however, now realized that was what she had to do. Sacrifice. She wiped the stray tears off her face, "If you feel obligated to them—_those people—_then do it. Take the job." She had to sacrifice their relationship. Their marriage for the good of her and Ender's mental and emotional health. If Ender was going to grow up without a father then he was going to grow up without a father. No mixed messages. And if Arthur never wanted to settle down and be a family man, he shouldn't have offered her empty vows, he shouldn't have promised to quit if they had children. If Arthur wanted to be the Point Man, if that's what he chose, then he could have it. "But don't expect Ender and I to be here when you get back." _

_What was once a relieved smile over her understanding and the end of their argument turned into a look of pure terror on Arthur's face as his wife pushed off from the bed and marched out of their room. "Ari." He called. His tone sounding like he was scolding her. Like she'd just cussed. "Ariadne," (_there it was. Her name…_) he flew into the hallway and grabbed her elbow, "Let's talk about this rationally—" Arthur thought he could talk her down as he always did. Reason with her. Appeal to their feelings for each other, get her to wait for him once more. Ariadne had begun threatening to leave him the past few jobs but he was always able to cool her off before she flew off the deep end and acted rashly. Nevertheless, it scared the shit out of him every time._

"_We've had enough talks about this," Ariadne's head tilted. It was when Arthur saw the way her eyes shined with tears of resolution (a way they never had before when they fought like this), the utter broken determination in her frown, and when she finished, "It's time one of us did something to end it," that he got scared to death that she meant it this time._

"_Ariadne, it's just one job." Arthur rasped, "Just wait for me one more time. One."_

_The Architect didn't respond to his request. Instead, Ariadne padded down the hall towards their son's room, "I need to bathe Ender—"_

"_Baby, please. Just one job—"_

"—_and get him to bed before it gets too late," Ariadne closed Ender's door in Arthur's face and locked it to prevent further discussion about it where the toddler could hear._

_The man insisted after her, knocking, "Ariadne." _

xxxxxxx

"Ariadne…" Arthur repeated to himself before the smell of something burning grabbed him and yanked him into the real world. He jolted and looked down, "Shit." The piece of bread was charred and crumbling, the cheese oozed over and was turning crispy. Dark grey smoke wafted around in his face as he picked up the whole pan and dumped it in the sink to run cold water on it. He wasn't thinking that the pan was still too hot and that would crack it. When that happened he threw the spatula at it in aggravation. THIS is why he didn't think of her…why he didn't say her name…things like this happened.

Chloe came running into the kitchen with her mouth in a perfect O. "Whoa…" The columns of smoke spewed out of the sink endlessly. The smell of burnt bread made the little brunette scrunch her face and pinch her nose. Arthur power walked around her to open the kitchen windows before the smoke alarms went off but it was too late. They shrilled and screamed and now not only was Chloe hunched on the ground in the middle of the floor holding her nose but trying to cover her ears at the same time too.

"Mr. Nolan," the sky began talking. Chloe looked to the ceiling eagerly. Unfortunately she spotted a speaker and was not about to be introduced to God. It would've been really cool if he and Uncle Arthur were really good friends. Actually, who it was turned out to be: "This is the front desk. We got a reading from your smoke alarm; should we send a fire truck?"

They could get a fire truck all the way up there? She didn't think the elevators looked big enough for that…unless they had whole separate elevators for fire trucks and ambulances and stuff. That'd be neat. Arthur pressed the button and spoke into a matching speaker system on the wall she hadn't noticed before, "No, everything's fine. Just a cooking blunder. Could you shut it off? Thank you, Max."

Thankfully, the alarm silenced though Chloe could hear bells ringing in its place. Once her ear drums settled down from the trauma, the sounds of honking horns, car engines and a million different conversations bled into his penthouse through the windows. The view was pretty too. Skyscrapers: silver, grey, white, tan, reflecting off the sun and each other. She innocently skipped to the window to better study the skyline and the ant-like people bustling around. She loved New York; this was like living in the clouds. She could pretend she was an angel. In the background, her Uncle Arthur was tossing the ruined pan into the garbage and fishing out another piece of bread to start all over. He cleared his throat and put another pan on the stove. For some reason that motion called her attention. Chloe looked at him over her shoulder and teased, "How did you expect an eight and a half year old to cook if _you _can't even do it?"

"I got distracted," he waved her off with the butter knife. Ever the Point Man…ever too prideful to admit a mistake.

She smirked, "At least I didn't ask for the spaghetti. That would've been a tragedy."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Arthur unfolded the couch out into a bed and brought out extra sheets, blankets and pillows. He didn't have a guest room (which was surprising considering the largeness of his penthouse) so Chloe would have to sleep there for the length of her stay. Speaking of, the little girl sat in the leather loveseat with her knees to her chest and waited. Her pajama pants had clouds on them and her shirt had frills and a rainbow all of which were tied together by red elephant house slippers—Obnoxious things if Arthur's opinion was to be considered. He didn't know how she managed to walk amidst the trunks and not trip and break an ankle. Next to her in the seat was her stuffed (very unrealistic looking) mint green elephant (she really had a thing for elephants and random colors didn't she?) with baby pink ears named Penny. On her other side was a yellow and blue paisley pillow that'd come out of her suitcase. After their afternoon of going over Chloe's schedule for the ballet intensive camp, making a chart of times so he'd remember when to pick up and drop off and a spaghetti dinner, Arthur gave in at last and agreed to let her watch a movie to fall asleep. It was her first night in this city, in a new place, new bed and with an Uncle that seemed more like a stranger than anything else so he felt he could let it slide if the volume was kept down.

Uncle Arthur was really precise in everything he did. It was familiar; a trait Chloe recognized in all the Talesco men she'd known. She studied his agile movements as he tucked the sheets into the corners, adjusted the length the covers hung on each side and folded the top back just so. With his back turned, she imagined him as her dad. Imagined him giving her a bear hug, pulling the sheets to her chin and kissing her forehead. Instead he grabbed her dvd case to put her movie in. Not very much like her dad at all. She expected him to have slight more compassion than he had…to at least help her into bed. But he called from his spot by the tv, "Hop in. Get comfortable."

Slowly and uneasily, Chloe obeyed. She took Penny by one of her legs and her pillow by the top corner and crawled on top of the bed. The sheets were tight like in a hotel (or like bunks in the cadet barracks), nothing like she was used to at home. _Real_ home. She had to pry them out of the sides to pull them down enough to slip in then struggle for extra room next to her so Penny could be under the covers too. The hum of the dvd plate closing sounded as he turned around with hands in pockets, "All set?" Chloe nodded.

"Alright. Well, if you need anything use the intercom. And um," Arthur surveyed the empty air in the room. Perhaps he was looking for an invisible teleprompter to tell him what to say. What was it that he said to Ender when he helped put him to bed? "Sweet dreams." It sounded forced and the Point Man couldn't bring himself to do anything but pat the top of her head even though Chloe halfway sat up. Her round eyes clearly expecting that a hug was in store. When he walked away, Chloe snuggled into the covers and turned her attention to the movie.

It was Annie. Yes, _that_ one. The timeless musical starring a red headed orphan. It was Chloe's favorite movie. She knew every line, every lyric. She'd had Annie birthday parties and drove her family and friends crazy by asking to play the soundtrack over and over and over again in the car. It was the movie she watched on road trips and sick in bed at home. When she missed her mom…or her dad…No matter how sad or bored little Chloe got, when those first chords of Tomorrow chimed in the beginning credits she was a happy camper. The girl hugged Penny tighter and hummed quietly along. The day (or Arthur) hadn't turned out like she expected but on the bright side she was in NYC and that's where Annie lived back then.

xxxxxxx

In the other room, Arthur was sitting up in bed and rolling his dice around in his palm. What had he gotten himself into? Taking care of a child for seven weeks? When would he do preliminary research for his job in Texas? Then he thought about _her_. What would Ariadne think of this? Him (for all intents and purposes) abandoning his son and then taking in a niece? The notion of replacement might be brought up. Would she despise him for it? Then again it wasn't as if she'd ever know. He didn't know how to get in touch with her. She and Ender disappeared off the face of the earth. Arthur suspected Ariadne contacted his father shortly after leaving him and asked the man to put a block on them too so Arthur couldn't find them. That would be the only theory to explain why he couldn't get a scrap of information about her or her whereabouts. Not even a glimpse into her past anymore—she simply didn't exist. Ender would be…six this year. Starting first grade. Ariadne was more than likely having a breakdown over her baby growing up, Arthur mused. Arthur fell asleep weighing the pros and cons of having an eight year old kid living in his apartment for almost two months.

"_Mommy!" Ender cried through the house. Ariadne and Arthur were in the living room drinking coffee, her feet propped on his lap as they watched the weather channel. "_Mommy_ my tummy hurts!" Ariadne was instantaneously on her feet and Arthur on her heels. She hurried into his room and knelt by his bed. There was an immediate sour smell and Ariadne noticed wet stains on the top of his footie and around his pillow. She fished in Ender's covers for his sippy cup. "His pj's are sopping wet. What cup did you give him to drink with last night?"_

_Arthur shrugged, "The orange cup with the tiger."_

_Ah yes, the Architect pulled out a mostly empty cup from under Ender's side, "We _never_ use the orange cup at night. It spills when it's turned over. He always uses the blue one with Buzz Lightyear on it when he's in bed." _

_Arthur could tell his wife was annoyed by his mistake, "I'm sorry—" Ariadne then pulled his covers down and Ender's sheets and the seat of his footie were stained. She breathed, "My God, he's messed everywhere…"_

"_Mama…" the little boy's stomach gurgled loudly as he bawled and held his tummy. Ariadne took his hands and gently pulled him out of bed, "It's ok, Baby, we need to clean you up and then I'll give you some medicine," and led her son into his bathroom. The pounding of the water running in the bathtub nearly overpowered the boy's sobs. _Nearly. _Ariadne knelt in the floor, wiped Ender's tears and tried to unzip his pajamas while he was hunched over in pain. "What did you give him?" She asked her husband._

_Arthur thought back and declared, "Milk. He asked for milk." Then the man grabbed the wipes from the shelf, got on the floor and helped wipe Ender down. _

_With widened eyes, she regarded Arthur dubiously, "_Real _milk?"_

_He didn't know what the problem was. "Yes."_

_Ariadne scolded her husband with both disbelief and rage, "He's lactose intolerant!" _

"_Since when?" Arthur's stomach dropped from not knowing (or remembering) something that important about his son. There was soy milk in the fridge but Ariadne was such a clean eater he figured it was hers. It was an honest mistake. He didn't mean to make Ender sick. Or Ariadne upset…she already complained he didn't know enough about their son. _

_She was definitely upset though, "Since he was born?!"_

xxxxxxx

The movie menu was playing on repeat in harmony with Chloe's deep breathing when incessant buzzing woke her up. It was her backpack humming against the wood floor. Uh oh. Chloe forgot to call and let "the wardens" know she landed safe. Half asleep she crawled to the edge and reached for the front pocket of her backpack, accidentally knocking Penny off in her haste. The buzzing stopped but the girl knew it'd start again momentarily. With crusty eyes, she tiptoed through the penthouse into the bathroom off of the kitchen (the automatic one!). She closed herself inside and sat in the bathtub just in time for her phone to vibrate again. "Hello?"

A stern male voice began the conversation with a reprimand, "Chloe. Do you know what time it is? You were supposed to call when you got in. We've been worried."

"I know. I'm sorry…" apologized the girl, "I had to turn my phone off for the plane ride and once I got to camp I was so excited I forgot to turn it back on."

"Well don't do it again," the man warned. "Are you settled in ok?"

Chloe looked at the door unsurely. Her imagination saw through it, around the corner, through the kitchen into the living room and looked at her makeshift bed. Her dorm room at the ballet school would've been much comfier. An actual bed in an actual room of her own (and one other little girl's) where she could spread all of her stuff around instead of keeping it stuffed in her backpack under the couch and in her suitcase and duffel in the closet by Arthur's front door. But it was only seven weeks and she'd much rather be there with Arthur so she could learn all about him. But boy if her family (well technically Uncle Arthur's family too) knew where she was truly staying, they'd flip. "Yeah, I guess."

The older man harrumphed, "Which chaperone were you assigned?"

"Um…" Quickly, the favorites tab on her phone's internet was pulled up to the camp's website so she could read the list of chaperone names. "Ms. Tate. But I've got to go; we've already been told lights out and I don't want to get into trouble."

"Ch—"

She smiled and rushed to get off before any more questions, "Love you, bye." Chloe would have to check in every day…how stressful would that be? And what if they wanted to talk to her chaperone? Oh no… the eight (and a half) year old slumped down into the bathtub and blew air out of her cheeks. This was going to be hard. She was in for so much trouble.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_After a bath, a tablespoon of medicine forced down by daddy and new clothes, the little boy fell asleep in Ariadne and Arthur's bed. Gurgling noises still came from his tummy and made it sound like his small intestinal system was being ripped apart. Arthur sat on the bed by the child. His hand rested comfortingly on Ender's chest and rubbed soothing circles. Ariadne smoothed the boy's sweaty black hair back before she got up to change and wash Ender's sheets. She refused to talk to Arthur since she had to hose their son down. Wanting to make up for it in some way (and thinking that her attitude was mostly because she was worried about her baby boy), the father kissed Ender's forehead and followed his wife. She was clearing the bed of stuffed animals and pillows when he got to the doorway, "He's going to be ok." _

_Ariadne glared at him, "I _cannot_ believe you." His jaw grit. Arthur despised her being mad at him. "You know nothing about our child."_

_Arthur took a deep breath then plunged in to help her remove the soiled sheets, "I know plenty."_

_Sarcastically she balled the sheets up with raised eyebrows and an approving (fake) nod, "Ok. What else is he allergic to?" Without waiting for an answer because she was certain he didn't have one, Ariadne brushed passed him to get to the laundry room. Arthur grabbed Ender's bunched up pajamas and did the same. He knew this one because they'd all three been at the park together and had to rush Ender to the hospital for it. "Ants." _

"_And?"_

"And? _That's it," insisted the Point, tossing the pj's in after the sheets and watching Ariadne pour in detergent and softener. _

"_No," she corrected. The tray of soap shoved closed, "There's walnuts. He can't have corn; he can't digest it for some reason. And he's allergic to latex." _

_Arthur thought she might be joking. He'd never heard of such. "Latex?"_

_Ariadne swung the washer door closed and jammed at the buttons to turn it on. Ender was a pretty heavy sleeper like her, thank goodness. "Yeah. They have to use special gloves at the dentist and doctor's office. He breaks out."_

_Being helpful, Arthur reached into the linen closet and got fresh train-printed sheets from the top shelf and carried them into the bedroom for her, "Ok, well I can't help that you discovered those and never told me."_

"_What's his favorite color?" The fitted sheet rolled out of the set and she began moving it up and down to open it up. _

_Well Ender's room was decorated with cars and trucks. So Arthur picked the color there was most of when he looked around, "Red."_

"_Orange," huffed his wife. I mean, it was in the spectrum right? That was close. Now instead of questions these become accusations. Arthur was incriminating himself as a horrible daddy and husband with each wrong answer. But didn't mothers normally pick up on more things than the fathers anyway? Now the mother was emphasizing each tuck with her increasingly upset demeanor, "You know what stuffed animal he sleeps with every night? What he calls the toy he takes _everywhere_?" _

_Arthur rubbed his forehead self-reproachfully, "No, I don't."_

"_Arthur."_

"_What? I'm sorry, I do—"_

"_No, that's what he named his teddy bear_: Arthur." _The Architect's hustle and bustle slowed down. Now she seemed borderline lethargic as she put the new pillowcases on. "When you leave, the bear sits at your place at the dinner table." As she began to choke up, Arthur swooped in and took over the job of the pillows with a repentant kiss on the cheek. "He puts the bear in the passenger seat when we ride in the car. He sneaks into our closet while I'm cooking dinner, sits on the ground between all your suit pants and puts your ties on the bear. He makes the bear kiss me goodnight, every night, while you're gone." The Point Man sat on Ender's bed, weaved his hands with Ariadne's and pulled her to stand in front of him. Ariadne looked at him with a melting pot of different emotions: she longed for him, she missed him, she loved him but then she was disappointed in him, hurt by him, angry with him, "When Ender's friends come over for playdates and ask where his dad is, do you know what he tells them?"_

_Arthur swallowed. He sort of didn't want to know. Her brows knitted, "Across the street. He says it's Mr. Bates. The neighbor that gets our mail mixed with his all the time. When he goes to games or the zoo or for gelato with his son, he takes Ender too. Ender sees _him_ more than he sees you." At that point, Ariadne wrapped her arms around his neck, sat in his lap sideways (like being carried bridal style), and tried to make an indent in his neck with the bridge of her nose, "Can't you say no this time? Stay home with me and Ender, just once. Put us first, just once." _

"_Baby, you know I would…you know I want to…" crooned the Point; his thumb rubbed back on fort on her calf. _

_She looked up at him. Eyes all watery. "You're crushing me, Arthur."_

_The man sniffed, "I'm sorry. But it'll be over soon. Just give me four to six months." The straw holding them together broke and Ariadne got off of him. Stormed down the hall. He tried to defend himself, "I've given them my word already, Ariadne." _

_Yeah that was a favorite line of his wasn't it? He used it every time. Before every job, after every fight. The Architect was sick of him putting his obligations towards strangers first. "What about the word you gave _me_? When we got married we made a vow to be by each other's side through everything. I have never felt more alone. You break your word to me every day. Year in, year out." They halted in the middle of the hallway, the constant clunk of wet laundry sloshing around in the washer. "Does it mean nothing? Does our marriage mean nothing to you?" _

"_Stop. You know it does. _I love you_."_

"_I have tried to be supportive and understanding. For the past four years, I've bitten my tongue, swallowed the ache in my throat and watched you walk out of that door for months on end a million times. Whether I like it or not, if walking out that door myself is the only way to end it, then that's what I have to do." There were so many ways Arthur could've come back and made a case for himself. But as he opened his mouth, she was already passed the threshold of their bedroom with the door in hand, ready to lock him out again. There was no use trying to march to the door before it was shut so Arthur stood their shell-shocked. Ariadne sighed before closing the door, "I'm tired of being married to a teddy bear." _

xxxxxxx

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment  
>I'm so scared but I don't show it<br>I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down  
>I know I got to let it go and just enjoy the show.<br>I want my money back…—The Show by Lenka

Super lengthy start, I know. It's significantly different from the initial requests—which were for an A/A domestic life fic. And I liked the idea of exploring them (mostly Arthur cause it seems almost but not quite uncharacteristic for him) as parents but of course…I can never write a story without conflict/angst between them.

I imagined Greg and Sydney (Arthur's brother and sister-in-law/Chloe's parents) as Keanu Reeves and Michelle Trachtenberg. I've posted a linked picture of both Ender and Chloe's face claim on my profile under elaborations (this story will have quite a few). Ender's is an unknown model kid but Chloe's is Mackenzie Foy (from her youngest, pre-twilight, years of course.)

What do you guys think? Off to a promising start, I hope?


	2. Capiche, Capoche

_ThePinkArcher: _Ender's sweet, I'm glad you like what we've seen of him so far. Chloe is a trip. Hahaha. You may, I'm not sure. She might have pretentious moments but she's related to Arthur so...Yes, poor baby. A flashback of that _will_ happen! Not for a while but it will. I've already sort of written that tidbit. I hope she surpasses her stay too ;) _Coffeebean: _Precocious, she sure is. I want her to sort of be her own tiny person but with elements of Annie and Matilda for sure. Yes, Chloe's obsessed with Annie. It's like her Frozen. That's why I added the conflict—needed excitement! Happy, normal, everyday family life with no problems at all is great but would be static to read. We'll see, I think Arthur needs to be won over by this little gem first. =) _SiSi4: _Thank you! Yes he is, he's horrible with people in general though. _Lauraa-x: _Yaay, I'm glad you are! And thank you, sweets. There'll be bumps along the way obviously but I agree Chloe's gonna win him over. How could she not? P.S. got your pm and I think I fixed it. Thanks for the heads up! _Guest: _I don't think it's a common nickname for Andrew but it may be. And yes, it definitely is a reference to Ender's Game. And the reference will be addressed later on. Hint: Ariadne loved the book. ;) _neverlandspirit: _Yay! Thanks for giving my new story a read.

Thanks to Pink Archer for following the story and Lauraa-x for favoriting and following. I appreciate it!  
>xxxxxx<p>

**Chapter 2: Capiche, Capoche**

Arthur woke up depressed because of the memories that'd been disturbed and re-awoken. It was only six thirty am and Chloe didn't need to be at the camp until nine but Arthur wasn't sure where they were going or her grooming habits (therefore didn't know how long she took to get ready). First thing, he rolled his dice and turned on the weather report for the day: Partly cloudy, ninety-five degrees, less than five percent chance of rain. He brushed his teeth, gelled his hair, shaved, then put on a blue pin-stripe shirt, yellow tie and tan suit pants. It was too hot for the jacket today; he'd have to roll his sleeves up as it was. For some reason, making his bed always soothed him. It was like physical therapy or something…so Arthur neatly put the bed together to clear his mind of the leftover nostalgia and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.

On his way, he took a gander at the sleeping form on his couch. The sheets were all over the place. Her head ended up in the top right corner of the bed, one leg bent and the other hanging out the bottom of the covers. One arm above her head, the other completely off the side of the bed. Her hair covered most of her face—one of her slippers was missing. It was comical to say the least. It was mostly funny because of the difference in what he was used to. With Ender? Once they laid that boy down, he didn't move an inch the rest of the night. Arthur noticed that Penny had fallen to the floor—some of his dad instincts kicked in (if not just his need for cleanliness) and caused him to pick the elephant up and place it by her side. While he was at it, he folded the arm that hung off back near her person. And well—he was right there so he might as well use his index and middle finger to move the hair out of her face. Arthur wasn't so reluctant to admit that her rosy cheeks and crusty eyelashes were cute. Chloe was a very cute little girl…_when she was unconscious_.

Anyhow, Arthur made them toast with scrambled eggs and English sausage. The smell was enough to draw Chloe (and Penny) out of bed and to the breakfast table by seven thirty. "Morning, Uncle Arthur," she groaned. And he replied, "Morning," as he set a plate in front of her on the table and then one beside her for himself, "Orange juice or milk?"

Brightening a little, she sheepishly asked, "Can I have _chocolate_ milk?"

"I don't have any chocolate," deadpanned the man. He poured her a glass of normal milk, a glass of orange juice for himself and sat. "You're not lactose intolerant, are you?" It was best to cover all bases and not make the same mistake twice albeit with different children.

"Nope," she shook her head proudly and took a bite of egg before, "What's that?" Chloe reached for the salt shaker in the middle of the table and added some to her eggs.

Arthur cut his sausage while informing, "It's when you can't have real milk because it messes your stomach up."

"Oh," Chloe shrugged and took a big swig of the milk, "No, I think I'm ok."

She _thought? _Arthur shouldn't have given an eight year old the choice. She probably didn't know. That was something her parents and now grandparents more than likely monitored for her. He should've just given her orange juice like he had himself. But—what if she was allergic to oranges? What if she was allergic to eggs or sausage? Or the seasoning used _in_ the sausage? Oh no. He was going to accidentally kill his niece…he was horrible with kids. "Is there anything you're allergic to?"

Chloe pursed her lips in thought then nodded, "Walnuts. That's it." That must be a Talesco thing. Arthur and his brother were both allergic to walnuts. Couldn't even crack the shells for other people (that's how their parents found out. The boys were shelling walnuts for the family Christmas party and had to be rushed to the hospital). Her fork danced around her plate trying to stab a sausage link, "Oh actually, sometimes I'm allergic to vegetables," she smiled slyly at him, her chin still pointed towards her plate.

One of Arthur's brows rose, "_Sometimes?"_

"Mhm." She gobbled up her eggs eagerly, "It depends on if there's cheese on them."

"I see." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her, "I have a feeling you're pulling my leg."

Did he not get jokes or something? Weren't uncles supposed to be super funny and entertaining and stuff? Like ruffle your hair and tell you to blow bubbles in your drink while your parents weren't looking?

Chloe was ready by the time Arthur asked her to be by the door. Her ballet attire was more toned down than her usual garb because the young ballerinas had a dress code: Pink tights, black leotard and hair in a bun. What she wore to and from camp _over_ her uniform was definitely more her style: A white sweater with printed purple bows sprinkled all over it, lilac sweatpants and bright blue rain boots (even though there was not a drop of rain in sight). Her backpack had to double for her dance bag but she was ready to roll. "Alright, let's go," Arthur stuck his wallet and keys into his front pocket and stepped out into the hallway. It was going to be a hefty chore chauffeuring his niece back and forth the next month and a half. He had to keep reminding himself she was family.

"Wait!" His hand was caught and pulled back in, "You're not dressed."

The little girl had almost got him—he looked down at himself. All that was missing was his normal suit jacket but he'd burn up in it today. "I most certainly am." He was never very good at humoring kids. He didn't know what she was getting at but if it was disrespectful, she was going to get a lecture before camp. Family or not, he wasn't going to tolerate impudence.

Shaking her head adamantly, Chloe reached up to his shoulders and pushed him down to her level. When he was eye to eye, her thumbs grabbed the corners of his mouth and turned them upwards. It was a law she learned from her favorite movie musical, "You're never fully dressed without a smile."

"Oh. Forgive me." It was an attempt…but his voice and eyes were still flat as he smiled. And he only plastered one on long enough to get her into the elevator. Then it dropped. Uncle Arthur was going to be a piece of work. He was basically a robot—like Wall-E. But not as boxy or cute. He probably liked old movies though. Black and white seemed Uncle Arthur's style. He was dependable like Wall-E…less clumsy but she'd trust him to save the galaxy. Just wouldn't count on him to pet a puppy or kiss a baby or anything. He was kind of like…a soda machine. You could always count on them to give you soda but not a hug. Soda machines ran out of soda sometimes though so that wasn't a good comparison. Chloe pursed her lips.

Arthur decided to take a cab that morning. He thought it would be beneficial to give the address to the driver and watch how he got there to give him an idea on how to navigate on his own. The car ride was silent. On his part, he didn't know what topics of conversation could be held with someone so young. On her part, she was reading Little Women. Arthur wouldn't lie and say he wasn't impressed by her choice in hefty period piece classic. At least he could credit his niece with intelligence; she was most likely a 4.0 GPA type kid. He walked her into the grandeur building. Needless to say, Arthur felt out of place surrounded by doting dance moms fixing ballet skirts and tucking bows on their children's shoes and a minimum of fifty little girls excitedly bouncing around. The whole place stunk of hairspray with an undertone of small feet. "I've got it from here," Chloe patted him on the arm. He didn't know about walking out and leaving her without seeing proper paperwork or a schedule or _something _first. Arthur was now responsible for her life and wellbeing the next seven weeks; he was justifiably skeptical about not personally knowing the place of business (nationally renowned or not). But Chloe insisted all he needed to do was pick her back up at 3 and practically pushed him out.

xxxxxxx

He returned at 2:45. Arthur left extremely early after anticipating traffic but ended up getting there sooner than expected. At any rate, he didn't want Chloe to be one of the last kids picked up like he and his brother always were. Arthur and Greg did karate and soccer interchangeably. They took the bus to get there and unluckily had to rely on their parents to get them home. Their dad's duties and shifts were different from day to day. Their mother was forgetful and often too sickly to get out. Either they were picked up fifteen minutes late, an hour late, were taken home with someone else whose parents felt sorry for them or they walked home. When he arrived, Chloe was sitting alone and slumped in the lobby with a cup of water and a half-eaten banana. The teacher's voice was counting over classical music in the big studio to the right. Arthur looked through the observation window where some parents were standing with noses pressed to the glass and saw every single one of the other little girls taking turns leaping across the floor. Why was Chloe the only one sitting out? Had she gotten in trouble? And why was her face so red and exhausted looking? "What's wrong?" Arthur asked and sat stiffly by her on the bench.

Chloe didn't have time to answer. The hefty blonde lady who'd been sitting behind the front desk that morning, Ms. Baublit, came scurrying from the back with wet paper towels in hand. "Eat that whole banana, missy." She placed one on the back of Chloe's neck and wiped her forehead off with the other.

Arthur reiterated, "What's wrong with her?" Naturally, he jumped to the conclusion that it was the milk (he shouldn't have given her) for breakfast and mentally slapped himself.

"You're her…?"

"Uncle Arthur," blearily answered the little ballerina.

The receptionist shook her head at him and dabbed Chloe's forehead with the paper towel again, "She had a heat stroke and some cramps. Chloe wasn't very prepared today, Uncle Arthur. No lunch, no snack, no water bottle." When Chloe hadn't said anything about food, Arthur assumed those things were provided. Weren't they supposed to be? Ballet camp was like an all-inclusive package wasn't it? "What about the children who stay in the dorms and don't have access?"

"Their chaperones handle it for them but they _have_ to be staying in a dorm. She can bring ten dollars a day, bring a lunch with her, or you could get her for the hour at noon."

Arthur gave Chloe a look that said she should've let him stay that morning and get all the details he needed. If he had, he could've come back with lunch for her. Chloe was too drained to give him a shy grimace. She leant into the wall and closed her eyes instead; listened to him promise the receptionist, "We'll be more prepared tomorrow." It looked like he was going to have to carry her to the cab…Just then the last class let out and the other little girls happily pranced out to their mothers. Another difference Arthur noticed between those dancers and Chloe was their hair. Obviously Chloe had done her own bun that morning because Arthur had no hand in it. His niece's hair was falling half down, bobby pins were poking out, the hairnet half off…the crown of her head had several bumps in it and her wispies sprung up all over the place. In comparison, the other little girl's hair looked as immaculate as they had that morning. Rock solid. Not a hair out of place. Better than Arthur's if such was possible. No. Arthur's niece would be the perfect one from now on. Arthur didn't half-ass anything. He was very precise and Chloe would follow in those footsteps. The Point Man helped her put her backpack on then picked her up and carried her outside.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Arthur took her back to the penthouse, fed her two grilled cheeses and let her take a nap on the couch while he researched the correct way to do a ballet bun on the internet. He found some step by step instructions on a few dance studio websites and favorited some 'how-to' videos to revisit. After a good hour, the man woke her up to take her to the closest market. Chloe was very downhearted about her first day of dance. Apart from feeling sick most of the day, she was embarrassed in front of all the other little girls. They giggled and pointed at her messy hair. Some of them whispered behind her back as she gradually got more tired and unable to perform the combinations to the best of her ability. Uncle Arthur looked upset with her for not telling him the details (but she thought he'd read it on the pamphlet). He was probably embarrassed to be her uncle when he picked her up. On top of it all, most of the other little girls had mothers that walked in and out with them. Ones that stood at the window and smiled proudly at them; they threw thumbs up's when they did well. No one stood in the window to watch Chloe…She missed her mom…

The little girl sat drooped over on the couch, clutching Penny tight, half watching Disney Channel with disinterest, half skimming through her Little Women novel. Nothing about this trip was as she imagined it. Everything was falling apart. Maybe she didn't want to run away and live with Arthur after all, it's not like he wanted her. He tolerated her. Chloe was smart enough to see that. Maybe their family was right; there was a reason no one talked about Arthur…

When Arthur finished cleaning the kitchen and ordered her to come with him to the store, she obliged albeit slowly and begrudgingly. She slid her rain boots on as sluggish as molasses and dragged her feet to follow him out the door. It was in front of the elevator that she ran into his stomach when he abruptly stopped in front of her. His arms folded over his chest while he looked down expectantly, "We can't leave until you're dressed. Where's your smile?"

Chloe shrugged and looked down at her boots rubbing together, "I think I left it at the dance studio." Idly surveying the hallway for nothing in particular, Arthur sighed. What would Ariadne do? She would play along. She would relate. She'd get down on Chloe's level and reassure her that it wasn't the end of the world just a little stumbling block. But how would she do that? Ariadne was magical; connecting with kids was one of her natural born talents. Arthur wasn't like that.

No. He was like that _once._ He just had to _try _to be like that again. If Chloe were Ender, what would he say? "I'm sure you have more than one, don't you? We can get the other one back tomorrow."

That sounded stupid. The Point Man sucked at this. The elevator doors got impatient and closed without guests but Arthur didn't bother pressing the button yet. He watched the normally sprightly child exhale despondently, "I don't think I wanna to go back."

Excuse her. That was not a very Talesco thing to say. "What?" Arthur squatted down with furrowed eyebrows, "You want to quit after _one_ day?"

Chloe shook her head, "I'm not ready. I thought I could come and do it alone but I can't."

Click. It was like a switch, seeing the crinkle between her brows. The slump of her shoulders. He didn't have to picture her as Ender or pretend he was Ariadne. What he should say just came out. "Hey," The Point Man made her look at him. "You're not alone. I'm here. I've only known you two days but I know you enough to know that you're a fearless little girl that doesn't back down easily. So don't back down now. My brother wasn't a quitter, I'm not a quitter and_ you're_ not a quitter." He pointed to her determinedly, "You're a Talesco—a _tiny_ Talesco…but a Talesco. And us Talescos can do _anything_ we set our minds to. We persist, capiche?"

The talk of family made Chloe feel scores better. Having another Talesco around and having Uncle Arthur actually act like an uncle lifted her spirits. She nodded confidently, the fire and fortitude shooting back to her eyes, "Capoche."

Arthur reached into his back pocket and held out something invisible with a smirk, "Now, I suppose I could let you borrow one of my extra smiles for now…" It surprised Arthur how light he felt when Chloe's signature grin returned to her face. After not spending sufficient time with his six year old son, he'd forgotten how children's spirits could carry away your burdens with them when they soared.

Chloe grimaced as they walked through the lobby, "What does persist mean?"

"Continue on no matter what."

xxxxxxx

The Point Man and Ballerina (and Penny!) went into a corner store first. It took a lot of coaxing but Penny the Elephant was allowed to sit in the front of the buggy where toddlers usually sat. Arthur was against it because he knew he looked silly pushing a cart with a child's toy strapped into the front. The gang proceeded to the hair supplies aisle. The list compiled on Arthur's phone wasn't too lengthy but the options of products to choose from were vast and Chloe was no help. She was twirling in the aisle and occasionally feeling the squishy ends of whatever hairbrush caught her eye. "Chloe, this is for you. Why don't you come help me find these items?" the uncle commented with a hair of annoyance in his tone. The girl didn't answer but held on to the round purple styling brush in her hand and sashayed to him.

"What are we looking for?" his arm was tugged down so she could look at the screen.

Arthur squinted, "Bobby pins. What are those? The metal hooks in your hair?" Still holding his phone, he scanned over the different labels hanging in front of him. Looked for any item that matched the things he saw popping out of her bun earlier that day. How heavy was girl hair? Sure they have more of it but is it so voluminous they have to stick hook-like contraptions into their skulls to keep it in place?

Chloe peered up too. Quicker than Arthur could do a double-take, Chloe stood on the bottom shelf in the aisle and pointed to a row way above her head. "They're up there. Get the ones with the ridges, they're the good kind."

He reached for two packs of light brown ones easily but studied the package before tossing them next to Penny in the buggy. They were interesting looking things: bobby pins. They looked sturdy though… "Ok claw clips?" Those were simple to find. They looked like their name and were located conveniently next to the bobby pins in three different sizes. The medium looked about right according to the pictures he'd seen. However they were packaged in sets with two black, two brown and two clear. One of the articles he read said the goal (apart from keeping hair out of the face) was for the clips to blend in with the bun. The black was obviously too dark for her hair, he couldn't use those. Arthur called the girl from the shampoo selection across the aisle and told her to stand in front of him. If you told Arthur a week prior that the next Monday he'd be standing in the middle of the hair products aisle matching barrettes to the color of an eight (and a half) year old girl's hair, he would've believed you were slandering him and punched you. But here he was… The brown worked perfectly. The company should be sued for the claim that the other claws were clear because they most definitely showed up in her hair. Of course they were more subtle than the black ones and even a package of blonde-toned ones but still too tacky for Arthur's taste. He decided to get several packages and just keep the two browns from each.

The ponytail holders were a little over from the assortment of clips and barrettes. It was a blessing that A) he had done research and learned that 'ponytail holder' or 'hair elastic' was a more proper term than rubber band because B) the Point Man was fully prepared to head to the crafts section and purchase real tan rubber bands to use in Chloe's hair. Though, if he took the time to remember, Ariadne always had brown bands to tie her hair up with. The buggy moved leisurely down the aisle with him. Chloe stood on the end and rode it, "What are we looking for now?" With all of that behind him, he now had to search for: "Hairnets." They were a must in keeping buns stray-hair free said Dance Spirit Magazine. They passed over do-rags and shower caps before Chloe spotted them near the bottom by the brushes she was playing with minutes before. Arthur told her to grab five or six before turning his attention across the aisle, "And…hairspray." The array of hairsprays were lined along the bottom two shelves below the shampoos, conditioners and dyes. The little girl copied the man and squatted on the ground next to him to survey the choices. Even mocked him without him noticing by rubbing her chin in time with the Point.

Chloe tilted her head sideways to read a can, "Big Sexy Hair."

Arthur rejected it right away, "You're eight—"

"And a half!"

"Still," grimaced the man, "You don't need big sexy anything."

Chloe paid no attention and ooh'ed at another can, "Freeze and _Shine._ I like the sound of that. Is it glittery?" Grabbing the can, she read the fine print for the mention of any sparkle while Arthur plucked a can of Bed Head Hard Head. That sounded _very_ reliable. "No," Chloe frowned, "no glitter." Both sets of eyes landed on a sleek black and silver can almost simultaneously. It's true about the weight the name of a product holds, it could make or break a customer's purchase. Aveda's Control Force was exactly what the Point Man was looking for. That was his kind of product. Sure it was a whopping twenty seven dollars but hell, it had _control._ Arthur and Chloe shared a knowing look and nod. The search was over. They were on their way to the pay counter when they passed a colorful aisle of hair bows and flowers. Arthur was content to keep going and ignore the extraneous at first. But he kept looking down at Chloe, eyes and head straining to keep looking back at the aisle as they walked and he eventually gave in. Why the hell not? He had the money. She was his niece not some stranger's kid, right? And as his niece he wanted her to look her best so she could feel and be the best. Chloe was allowed any bow and flower she wanted. Arthur even spotted and purchased a bright blue and white polka dot, expandable vanity box to keep her bun products. Yes, he may have called it a hair toolbox but what do you expect?

Next, they went to the grocery. Arthur was positive she'd get sick of grilled cheeses if it was all she ate for seven weeks. She needed healthy snacks and such to take to camp with her and he needed kid friendly finger foods to feed her with when she was at his place. They got cereals: CoaCoa Puffs, Apple Jacks, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Lots of yummy things for dance like baby carrots, apples, bananas, berries. Chloe begged for green olives (Arthur thought he had some black at home but she insisted green were the best) and a jar of pickle chips. The buggy got filled with several other small snack packages and packs of Gatorade. The Point Man picked up ingredients to make macaroni and lasagna—meals he hadn't had since Ariadne walked out on him—and even some chicken nuggets and fish sticks for the kid. Produce needed to make sandwiches, they went to Arthur's favorite deli for. Chloe loved cold cuts and all types of cheese. Arthur even persuaded her into trying prosciutto and she liked the sample so much, he bought enough for a few weeks. At the end of the shopping trip, they both held so many bags Arthur hailed a cab to take them back. By then it was nine o' clock and well past the time Arthur deemed it necessary for her to get enough sleep. Still, since she hadn't had one since she arrived, it was agreed that she needed a bath before bed.

Arthur's bathroom was the only one with a tub so he drew her water in there. He left her a plethora of towels and uncomfortably skirted out to put away the groceries. First, the Point took a few of each color Gatorade and some water bottles and put them in the fridge, then went the produce and the fruit that couldn't sit in the bowl on the counter. The boxes of pasta and loaves of bread and bagels went into the pantry along with peanut butter. Last but not least, the frozen vegetables and meats went into the freezer. Each had its own specific spot, organized according to its place on the food pyramid. The Point Man snuck a new lunchbox for the child so she wouldn't have to lug the food around in the backpack, letting it get crushed and soggy. That and it was highly unsanitary to put your sustenance in the same place you put your dirty shoes and Neosporin. Chloe was busy choosing between Monsters University and Hello Kitty gummy vitamins when he slipped into the next aisle and got it. It was really the pattern that sold him: Elephants. It was a pink lunch bag sprinkled with different colored elephants just like the shirt she showed up to his house in that came with a matching ice pack, thermos and bento-box container. It was a perfect fit so he bought it.

He didn't see it as doting on Chloe just as being a good uncle. Doing his brother a favor and providing for the little girl. Still, it made him feel incredibly guilty. Because he should be doing all this for Ender at the moment. He should've gone grocery shopping with his wife. He should've bought a new spider man lunch pack and filled it with goodies for Ender's first days in first grade. It should've been little Ender splashing in the bathtub and laughing and blowing bubbles. Arthur gave up taking his five year old son to tee-ball for what? A few jobs? A fat paycheck? His ego? And now he was replacing Ender with his niece. Doing the duties he shirked for someone else's child. Being a stand-in parent for another kid when he wasn't even man enough to be a parent to his own. What would Ariadne think? Where was Ariadne…? How was she getting along? Was she struggling with Ender alone or did she have help from her family? He contacted her parents not too long ago but they were tightlipped and asked him not to contact again. As much as it pained Arthur, he figured he owed it to them to respect their wishes. He could always take a trip to North Carolina again and wait in the neighborhood to see if Ariadne was staying there at the time or not. The Point just _needed _to see her. See Ender. He hadn't slept well since the two of them left. Arthur ached at night, every night, down to the marrow in his bones. But he was thinking too much on it again. Without realizing it, Arthur had slouched over on the island counter, face in one palm as the other gripped the thermos.

Once he realized his current state and the signs of an onslaught of grief, he swallowed some Tylenol dry and went to check on Chloe. It'd been over half an hour anyway; she'd been in there long enough. He was ready for bed. The man gaited through the house, across his bedroom and lifted his hand to knock on the door— _"about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow til there's none. When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely, I just stick up my chin and grin and say…"_

Amid the trickling sound of water-wading, a soft melancholy voice resonated through the door and froze the Point Man up. _"The sun'll come out tomorrow. So you gotta hang on til tomorrow. Come what may_…" It was tiny and high pitched but the sweetest thing he'd heard in forever. Ever so progressively, Arthur's hand floated down to his side and his stance shifted to press his ear closer to the crack. It may have been his imagination but he thought he caught a sniffle between notes.

"_Tomorrow, tomorrow. I love ya tomorrow." _Chloe silenced and wept a little. The water swished in the background. Arthur pursed his lips together, realizing his neglect of Chloe's feelings (her parents died; she'd been through a lot of trauma and life-change) and then his neglect of Ender. What was his little boy thinking? Was he lying in bed with his teddy bear somewhere wondering when his daddy would care enough to find him? Chloe sniffed and sang sadly, _"You're always a day away."_

Arthur was aware. He'd had a few months to grieve his brother's death but losing a sibling was different than losing a parent. Or both parents. True to his assumptions of her, Chloe had been extremely brave. Arthur hadn't witnessed her cry or whine at all and she did her best to obey Arthur's few rules such as 'stay out of my study' and 'shoes off at the door'. He was aware but he hadn't been considerate. Staying with Arthur and Greg's parents was like staying with no one at all. Chloe must've felt all alone in the world. A burden to everyone. Unwanted. No parents, no place that felt like home. Her world had been turned upside down and she still bounced around with a grin half the time. On the inside though? On the inside she must've felt the same cold, dull, ache as Arthur. How must Chloe have felt walking into the studio that morning and being bombarded with images of little girls and their mothers? The other children sitting in their parent's laps, having their leotards fixed, being pestered about having enough water…poor kiddo. It was probably the same envious, parasitic feeling Arthur was bombarded with every time he passed couples on the street. Every time he saw a man and wife pushing a stroller down the sidewalk. Or when he spotted little boys in Yankees caps sitting on their dad's shoulders. Chloe may have only been eight (and a half) but as miniscule a human being as she was, she could understand. And she could sympathize. And at least for seven weeks, they could vicariously live together.

xxxxxxx

Chloe pranced out of Uncle Arthur's bathroom in her pj's to find his room abandoned. Maybe she shouldn't have but she gave into her curiosity and explored. Arthur was a legend in the family household. The topic of him, stories of him, memories including him—all were hush-hush. Or at least, when Chloe was around. Which only made the man more intriguing to the little girl when she found out about him. Chloe was mesmerized by the space and décor. Regarding the open door tentatively, the little girl tiptoed around the foot of the bed. The pitter patter of the drops from her wet head made more noise than her steps. As a ballerina in training, she was very light on her feet. Walking on releve (the balls of her feet) was a habit. Small fingers traced the wood, marveled at the smoothness and what she could see of the polished rich color in the dark. At the edge, she picked at the accent spread. It was deep orange, goldish…and it reminded Chloe of one of her dad's old ties. She skipped to the bedside table and studied the unique lamp hanging above it. Other than that, there was only an alarm clock and his tv remote. For a mysterious and fascinating uncle, he sure was boring. Something that really puzzled the girl about Arthur's bedroom when she thought about it was the lack of pictures. The walls were clean, the surfaces were clean; it looked like a hotel room. Back at Chloe's house (her real house not her grandparents') the walls and table tops were covered with pictures. Tons and tons of them. Every event and occasion had a picture that was displayed proudly. She felt loved and special with her home decorated like that. Those pictures reminded her of the overwhelming happiness and excitement she shared with everyone. That's why she brought a few in a box to New York: To remember. She loved to remember. Chloe guessed Uncle Arthur hated to remember. There wasn't one frame in his whole penthouse. "Ready?" The light flicked on.

Chloe jumped and turned around. Arthur caught her snooping red handed. It was ok really, there was nothing for her to find. And he didn't have carpet in his bedroom so the puddle of water on the ground from her dripping wet hair wasn't too much of a hassle to clean up. In fact, her terrified wide eyes were amusing as he stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. Chloe nodded without word and scurried past him. Her bed was unfolded and ready. Penny was waiting on her by her pillow as well as Annie waiting for her on the tv screen. Chloe hopped right in as Arthur placed a bottle of water (in case she got thirsty during the night) on the end table. The Point Man was still rusty by means of affection, especially so with children so he settled for a repeat of her first night and patted her on the head. Not two seconds after his hand left the top of her head did she softly smile up at him, "Thank you for everything you got for me today."

Arthur shrugged it off, "No problem. See you bright and early."

Chloe saluted and snuggled up to Penny, "Aye aye, Captain."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

xxxxxxx

_Baby ballerina's hiding somewhere in the corner  
>Where the shadow wraps around her<br>And her torturers cannot find her.  
>She will stay there til the morning<br>Grow behind us as we are yawning  
>And she will leave our games to never be the same.<br>_ —Sugarcane by Missy Higgins

Rough beginning of a relationship but I think Arthur's already being chipped away at. I think the fact that Chloe's mere presence forces him to face and remember how he messed up with Ariadne and Ender, will help with his development. It might make it bumpy but he's getting there. Some of the sensitivity is coming back to him. What do you guys think?


	3. Roy-G-Biv

_Neverlandspirit: _ Yes and I think that Arthur's guilt and pain will surface a little bit more each time he's forced to remember Ender and Ariadne but hopefully that will push him to do something about it in the future. Glad you love Chloe. _Lauraa-x: _They'll come. It's a back and forth with Arthur just like all of his other relationships in his life. Idk they probably won't be happy. With Arthur and possibly with Chloe either. What's she's doing is a pretty big deal. Hunting him down and then lying to them about where she's staying and everything?…grounded. Lol. _ThePinkArcher: _YayYay! You don't know how happy I am to hear that. He's got the potential, he's just afraid of using it. Hopefully, he'll get there. And…you never know…if they click well enough! They will definitely have cameos but further into the story at this point. _Coffeebean: _Who would've ever thought of Arthur shopping for bobby pins? Hahahahaha. Yeah, sad it's sort of a forced development between him and his niece (which you're totally right is basically a stranger) instead of a natural growth with his little boy. And even sadder that he and Ariadne aren't able to develop as parents together. But separately (and with freakin different kids). Thanks. I sort of wanted there to be a parallel between Arthur and Chloe losing people one way or another in order to help them relate easier. Excited he seems like a real human being here…it's pretty hard to write the legendary Point Man that way but I'm discovering it gets easier each chapter.

_Voltex, PinkArcher, talkstoangels77 _and _Flora1832, _you guys are golden for following/favorite the story/me. Gratitude being sent your way! 

xxxxxx

**Chapter 3: Roy-G-Biv **

"Ow…ow! Uncle Arthur!" Chloe squirmed on the barstool in the kitchen as Arthur brushed her slick hair back towards his grip. It was his fourth try at a ponytail but this time it was tight enough. The hair elastics got tangled up in his hand easily when he attempted to twist and go around the ponytail multiple times. He'd miraculously gotten a nice looking ponytail on the first try but Chloe reached behind and pulled at her hair to tighten it which resulted in several bumps along her crown and he wouldn't have that. The counter top was littered with their breakfast plates (waffles and strawberries today) and the items out of her bun toolbox. "Press play again please," nicely ordered the Point.

Chloe paused her game of Angry Birds and went back to youtube where a bun tutorial was pulled up. The little girl tried to insist to Arthur that she knew how and could talk him through it but he was adamant about following the instructions he found. Patiently and after taking a bite of strawberry, Chloe held the iPod out to the side for Arthur's view and pressed play: **Now twist the ponytail until it begins to curl around itself. Wrap in a circle until all the hair is in a bun-like position and secure with another ponytail holder.**

"Thank you," Arthur replied and did as told.

Smartly, Chloe reached into her toolbox and held out a hairnet for him. Mouth full, she stated, "You're gonna need to wrap this around it next. I bet you a candy bar."

The Point Man politely took the net from her but set it down on the counter with a: "Valuable input but I'd rather follow the video."

**Next, take a hairnet and wrap it around the bun two or three times depending on the size of the bun to keep fly aways in place.**

The little girl twisted over her shoulder and graced Arthur with a shit-eating grin (_language_, Arthur. Even if it is in your head…) "Valuable input indeed. Twix are my favorite but a Snickers will do too."

He rolled his eyes at her, "Oh, turn around," the hairnet was a piece of cake compared to the hair elastics and from there it was like putting pieces together inside the PASIV. It was strategic. Like fitting cogs and gears together. The Point Man lined the bun with the claw clips then stuck bobby pins in the spaces between. Chloe had been a victim of hairspray enough times that she didn't need to be told to cover her face when he doused her hair in it. Her hands automatically created a shield along her forehead. No matter how much a person can be accustomed to the overwhelming scent of hairspray, no one can ever be impervious to it. Chloe coughed through the cloud of hair product and then rummaged around in her toolbox for her bow of the day. She decided on a bright green one to match her green shorts and Arthur nearly had an anxiety attack figuring out how to put it in without messing up his immaculate work of art called her hair. _Who had he turned into?_ "Does it feel sufficiently secure?"

In answer, Chloe hopped down from the barstool and began head banging to check. It was a natural thing to do.

"_Hair check," Mommy would instruct and step back in preparation. And like the instructions for a fire where you stop, drop and roll Chloe would head bang, shake her head and then turn in a circle. Then the woman would order: "Blue Steel." It was like saying 'Freeze' but funner. Chloe would stop movement and pose with a model face for her mom to study the effects of her movement. If it didn't budge (which Chloe could usually feel it move or not), they were good. Her mommy would spray over and smooth it back with her palm one more time regardless then give her two thumbs up, "We're golden." _

Arthur held his breath. He might kill her if he had to do the entire process over again. Luckily, not a strand moved. "We're golden," she stood straight (continuing tradition for her mom's sake) and skipped to the door. Arthur met her there with her lunch bag in hand. He waited until she strapped her backpack on and turned around, "I, uh, I got this for you yesterday. It'll keep things colder than your backpack will."

Chloe gazed in awe at it. Not that it was the most exquisite lunch box she'd ever seen...The kicker was that Uncle Arthur had essentially gotten her a present and paid enough attention to know that she absolutely adored elephants. Arthur might never know how much a small bag of snacks would mean to her. She wanted to hug him so bad but was afraid to. He was the type of man that patted her on the head instead of hugging and shied away from being personable. He didn't like being all sweet and sentimental. She was only eight and a half and she could tell that quirk about Arthur as easily as she could tell you the different characters from My Little Pony. Chloe was afraid of irritating him with affection or worse being outright rejected. The little girl didn't want to hug Greg's brother and be pushed away with a frown. So instead she hugged the lunchbox to her chest and made sure to give him a tiny tightlipped but grateful smile so he'd know she appreciated it. "Thank you."

Uncomfortably, Arthur nodded and returned a smile more tightlipped than hers. It looked more like pursed lips to be honest. Pep talks about Talesco's he could do when circumstances called for it. Bright genuine smiles and doling out embraces on a daily basis, he couldn't. It was a work in progress and Arthur had emotional block for several obvious reasons. (Or two.)They kept their half-hearted smiles so they'd be dressed enough to get into the elevator then dropped them to their normal expression.

Two days passed by significantly well. With all the preparation, the little girl had no problem getting through her classes each day. Everyone wanted to trade her for her lunch. Even the kids who got food brought in from restaurants. The way Arthur packed her bento boxes made them look not only appetizing but fun to eat. The first day were two rows of pretzels and cheese cubes in one compartment, berry salad in another, cherry tomatoes with ranch and then freshly baked chicken strips in the big square. On Wednesday she found a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the shape of a star, watermelon cubes, chips of pickles and scoop of potato salad. Today, she had ham and cheese quesadillas, strips of avocado, goldfish and an oatmeal crème cookie. Since her Gatorades and water were normally set aside for water breaks during and between classes, Arthur packed her a special drink in her thermos for lunch every day. So far it'd been pink lemonade, chocolate milk and peach tea. And Chloe's bows started a trend at the studio. The mothers gushed over them and since they seemed to be allowed by the instructors, the other girls started coming in with headbands and bows and flowers too. It was one of the only ways to show their personality while wearing dress code.

Arthur and Chloe fell into a routine in the mornings. The Point Man was still getting a hang of the buns so that got its own allotted thirty minutes. But anyways: Arthur woke up at six thirty and groomed himself for the day then as he was cooking breakfast and making her lunch Chloe would get up, dress herself for ballet and fold up her blankets. They'd eat first, he'd do her bun, then they were out the door. How they got to the studio was different every day. Sometimes they walked if they had the time. Sometimes he didn't feel like bothering with driving so they'd take a cab and sometimes he did feel like it and they had time to spare so he drove the BMW. No matter what form of transportation they took Arthur walked her in and sat with her as she changed her shoes. Unlike most of the other parents and guardians however he left when the kids trotted off into their first class and didn't come back until three. 2:45 really. Arthur was always early. The downside of that was having to endure the chatty gossip and bragging of the parents that cared a little too much how many pirouettes Suzie could do and whether Sally was pointing her feet hard enough or not. Well his examples were vaguely off kilter, the kids' names nowadays were more like Cadence and Tinsley and Freedom. (But did he have room to talk? Coming from a man who's son's name was _Ender_?—In his defense, that was mostly Ariadne's request. And really just a nickname. Ender's official name was Andrew). There were a few other quiet adults but they and Arthur were poorly outnumbered.

This Thursday afternoon the children were let out of camp ten minutes early because the last teacher had to get to the airport and fly out for a performance at Houston Ballet over the weekend. Ms. Baublit from the front desk waited for the chaperones to collect the kids staying in dorms and for the rest of the kids' parents to pick them up. Arthur was sitting in his claimed usual spot on the padded bench in the corner of the lobby next to the cubbies. Minding his own business, checking stocks on his phone. Then a swarm of pixie sized ballerinas came panting and giggling out of the studio. It was hard to distinguish the top of her head amongst all the other tops of heads. Never mind that he should be able to rule out the blonde and red heads on principle (they were all the same to him). It was even harder because her head was significantly below a lot of the others. Chloe eventually made her way to her cubby surrounded by five or six other kids. "I'm so excited for tonight!" Arthur heard an Asian kid squeal.

"What's tonight?" asked Chloe, pulling her backpack out of its box and sitting down like the others. Arthur wondered that as well. Was it the field trip or performance (part of the camp package) he wasn't informed was that day? He really needed to start asking Ms. Baublit for information every morning because Chloe clearly wasn't very good at being the messenger.

A blonde sitting right in front of his feet nodded her head and held her arms up in the air, bragging, "We're having a sleepover in my hotel room!" The Point Man caught Chloe's eyes: they sparkled with excitement as she pulled off her ballet shoes and started pulling her tights off her feet. Arthur was skeptical though. He was responsible for her and he wasn't acquainted with the people she'd be staying with. Even if he was acquainted, he couldn't be sure if he could trust Chloe to their care. And who's to say those little girls were good association? (He was positive that same blonde was the one who criticized Chloe's hair the first day and "accidentally" stepped on and broke the clasp of Chloe's bow on Wednesday when it fell out). What kind of crap would they feed her? And he doubted Chloe would get to sleep on time—Friday may be a half day of camp but they still had to wake up early. If she was exhausted she wouldn't get anything out of classes and who knows what her bun would look like. He shuddered to even think of the impending disaster.

A black girl and a brunette grabbed hands excitedly while the blonde bragged, "We're gonna braid each other's hair and do nails and make huge sundaes."

Chloe's beaming face made Arthur dread rejecting her invitation. After all, didn't the little girl need a night of fun to get her mind off of her parents? He bet she missed doing girly things like those. Arthur's niece would have a blast…and since Friday was a half day she could always come back and take a nap after lunch. Chloe tossed her ballet slippers into her backpack and reached behind her for her rain boots, eagerly stating, "I can't wait!"

"No offense," the blonde child pursed her lips in a bratty way and the group of dancers quieted awkwardly, "But it's kind of a sleepover for mothers and daughters and you don't have one."

If Arthur could drop-kick a child…

Chloe's face fell, "Oh." The Point Man felt a wave of second-hand sadness when his niece's eyes grazed over his gloomily, "That's ok," then focused on the ground as she dejectedly swung on her backpack. The world around him blurred, the only focus fixed on Chloe. The both of them tuned out the enthusiastic chattering that resumed in the circle of dancers. The niece because she was furiously blinking and pulling on her boots trying to be brave and take the comment in stride, the uncle because he couldn't believe the _rudeness_ and _ignorance_ and didn't want to hear anymore of Chloe's exclusion for fear of causing a scene. As soon as the bright blue boots were fully on her feet, Arthur stood and grabbed her lunch bag for her, "Come on, Chloe." He guided the child out with a hand on her back and ignored the polite waving of the receptionist and other adults. The man was almost furious—livid—because of the treatment his niece was subjected to and needed to get out of the area before he tore someone up over it…too late. The culprit (the unpleasant, snobbish blonde child) and her mother were traipsing out to hail a cab. Arthur ordered, "Go ahead and get in the car. Buckle up."

He assisted Chloe in removing her backpack and put both her bags in the backseat while she climbed into the passenger. He then marched to the woman once Chloe's door was closed, "My eight year old niece just lost both of her parents and I don't appreciate the way your little girl has been treating her."

"Excuse me?" the woman reared back, offended.

After buckling, Chloe curiously pressed her nose to the window. She couldn't really hear what Uncle Arthur was saying because the glass muffled everything. But he didn't look happy at all.

Arthur gestured with a hint of understanding, "Offhand comments about her dress sense are one thing because they're children and speak their mind without filter. Opinions should be encouraged. But excluding Chloe over the mere fact that she doesn't have a mother—something she can't control—is absurd and quite frankly, uncouth. Then to flaunt the plans in front of her?"

The woman opened her mouth but was at a loss for words. She stuttered, "I didn't—"

"All I ask is that if your daughter interacts with my niece in the future she does it with a little more propriety and compassion." He curtly smiled, did a little bow and marched back to the car. Behind him were the words of stern scolding, "Maia, what did you say to that little girl? Were you being mean?"

xxxxxxx

Chloe drifted off to sleep, her knees to her chest and her head rested against the car door. The initial confusion she felt when Uncle Arthur tapped her shoulder and roused her awake wasn't the normal kind you get after you've been asleep and wonder where you are. It was the kind you felt when you really didn't know where you were even after coming into full consciousness and staring at the building in front of you. It wasn't the skyscraper she was used to staying in outside the window but a boutique with women's clothing and fancy hats in the window. She squinted her eyes. Loud car horns and beeps and whistles got louder when Arthur appeared at her door and nodded for her to get out. Maybe he had some errands to run.

He guided her along by her back again (she loved that) and closed her car door. The boutique smelled like cinnamon and some flower the little girl wasn't quite sure of. The tile on the floor was ornate looking and there were sparkly light fixtures hanging from the ceiling that she couldn't take her eyes off of. Her mouth hung open and her head tilted all the way back to gawp at the ceiling. She grasped onto the Point Man's suit jacket and let it lead her wherever he was going so she could continue to commit the place to memory and not worry about looking where she was going. He stopped at a desk to the side. Chloe disregarded his conversation. She was picking through a decorative bowl of rings: bold colors like deep emerald and ruby and sapphire shaped into tiny ovals and hearts…all of which were too big to fit on any of her fingers. She tried on all ten. Once again Arthur told her to come along and they followed a pretty lady in a skirt suit down some stairs. Chloe tugged at Arthur's sleeve, "Where are we?"

Arthur reached the bottom first and held out his hand to help her down the last few steps. (Chloe took it and jumped). "You looked very excited about getting your nails done so…you're going to get your nails done."

"This way little miss," grinned the pretty lady who took her hand and directed her to a large and comfy red lounge chair. Arthur was there in no time except he sat in an empty chair out of the way and picked up a newspaper to go through. Chloe hummed happily as her feet sank into the warm bowl of water and were massaged. Who needed those mean other dancers to paint her nails? She was getting them done in a palace. Noticing the spotless glass and round columns, Chloe swore this was where princesses got theirs painted. Cinderella and Aurora and Elsa. The girl had been to a lot of nice nail salons but never one this extravagant. It was a lot of exhilaration for her little self to bear. When the prepping was done and Chloe had relaxed to the point of dozing off again she was interrupted, "Now, what did we have in mind? A French manicure, a solid color or maybe a design? Price-wise the French is the best. Time-wise would be the color. Depending on the design, those sessions run longer." Uh oh. Whatever Uncle Arthur ordered, she guessed…she looked at him expectantly and waited for him to answer for her.

"Up to her," he looked up from the newspaper, "Pricing doesn't matter and I'm not particular about how long it takes," He informed the nail artist. He informed Chloe next and despite the even tone and the nothingness in the expression on his face (he was like Nicholas Cage, Chloe decided), his words sounded sweet to the child: "You can have absolutely anything you want."

Chloe got light pastel colors on her toes—Ice cream colors as she referred to them. Light pink on her big toes, lilac purple on the seconds, then baby yellow on the third toes, mint green on the fourths and a pretty light blue on the pinkies. Swarovski glitter embellishments of matching colors were lined along the cuticles. As obsessed as she was with her trusty rain boots she mourned covering up her feet. On her fingernails she got an array of different but collaborative designs. It was a set she picked from one of the magazines she flipped through as her toes were being done. Her thumbs were a solid pink, her indexes were pink with thin white stripes. The middle fingers were pink with small white polka dots. The ring fingers were white with small black dots and a pink heart in the top corner and her pinkies were painted solid white with thin pink stripes. When they were dry she proudly displayed them for Arthur to see. They were creative, he'd give her that.

The experience seemed to push the debacle at the dance studio further back in _her_ mind but it was still on the forefront of Arthur's. Kids could be so cruel. He'd almost forgotten the bullies in private school that he had to deal with way back when. Arthur didn't want to take the chance of Chloe remembering and dwelling on being left out. So he upped the ante. The man had to keep her spirits high so she wouldn't think about it. They got back in the car and the girl was still holding her nails up to her face. Still taking in every detail and grinning from ear to ear. Arthur checked his watch: 5 o' clock. "What do you say we have pizza for dinner tonight? I know somewhere in the city that sells the best." It'd been decades since Arthur's last sleepover (was he ever invited to one or did he just watch those on tv? The details were fuzzy) but he was certain that pizza was always involved.

"Yes please!" shrieked the kid.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"I love pizza," said Chloe, mouth stuffed full with pepperoni and cheese and olives. (The kid LOVED olives. Ridiculously.) Contrary to prediction this was her third slice and she was still going strong. Arthur looked out of place (as always really) in the small hole in the wall pizza parlor. He held his pizza over his paper plate with a napkin. Sat straight up. You'd think he was there for high tea. Chloe on the other hand looked exactly like some kids across from them: legs swinging, bottom of her face a saucy mess.

Arthur amusedly nodded, "I can tell," and handed her one of the many, many napkins he snagged. He couldn't lie and act appalled by it. Ariadne was the same way when eating anything cheesy or anything chocolate and he thought it was charming on _her_. Then again he was in love, what did Ariadne do that wasn't charming to him? Normally, he'd shy away from the reminder of his wife but he welcomed it. In a strange way it helped him not miss her so much. Since the day Chloe made him say her name out loud again, he'd been a little less helpless feeling. He felt, in some weird way, closer to Ariadne again. Just by using her name, thinking it. Tasting it again…it tasted vaguely like hope.

Or maybe mozzarella cheese and garlic crust.

Obviously, the little girl was a stranger to New York Pizza. Besides being the most delicious pizza on the planet, Chloe couldn't get passed the size. The bitten off half slice was held up beside her head, "Look at it! It's bigger than my face."

"Sure is." Arthur sipped at his water. He let some of his guard down as he picked his slice up, "It may be bigger than mine too. What do you think?"

Chloe resumed determined chewing but leaned forward with squinted eyes and judged the man across from her, "Same size."

"No." Arthur acted upset and looked sideways at his food, "My head isn't _that _big."

"Well…" tilted her head and pitched her tone, "minus the bottom corner of the pizza but plus your ears."

He peered at her mock angrily for the ear comment but bit off the bottom of his slice and held it back up, "Better?"

The little girl raised up on her knees and leaned over the table to push his ears against his head, "Perfect." After, she sat back and picked some olives off to pop into her mouth.

That was interesting, thought Arthur. He forgot the lightheartedness and simple humor that came with children. They were so innocent and cheerfully unaware of the horrible world around them that they could find insurmountable joy in the size of a slice a pizza. Their world could be brightened by seeing a stray cat on the street or a blinking coca cola sign. And it's very hard to pull the wool over children's eyes yet adults still contend that they can. Little boys and girls have an innate truthfulness which they speak their mind on (thinking about his ears). Polite or not it was normally true. What was he like in the eyes of Chloe? Was he the same business oriented, elusive, guardian that Ariadne insisted Ender saw in him? The caretaker rarely seen who professed affection and familial bond but proved false to the claim? Was she conscious that Arthur was acting out of obligation to his brother or was he able to fool her into believing he truly cared about her alone? Did he? Or could she tell he was living vicariously? Pretending that he could right his wrong with Ender by being the parent he hardly was for another child? "We should have pizza every night," declared Chloe, yanking him out of his self-analysis.

"Oh no." Arthur shot the idea down, "It's entirely too unhealthy to have on a regular basis. Unless you want clogged arteries and a heart attack by the time you're—"

Chloe smirked, "I know Uncle Arthur. I just wanted to see your reaction." Her tongue and teeth discourteously tried to pull the stringy cheese that hung from her chin into her mouth. Following the success of that feat, she shrugged, "I like your smarty-pant speeches."

Arthur was genuinely entertained by that idea, "You'd be the first." No one—not even Ariadne—enjoyed his spiels about health and traffic and whatever topic came up. It didn't seem like Chloe was sucking up either; the girl wasn't batting her eyelashes or smiling like she wanted something. She was humming a tune from Annie, sipping Sprite through her straw and purposelessly people-watching through the window.

Following a huge bite of pepperoni and crust Chloe opened a small notebook (she "HAD" to bring inside) and sat attentively, "Can I ask you some questions?"

"What for?"

In as nonchalant a manner as she could muster, Chloe shrugged again. She knew nothing about him. Only the theories about the Mysterious Arthur Talesco she came up with by herself when she found out about him. Chloe hoped to gain more understanding. If he had too many walls to form a close relationship with Chloe than at least by knowing him a little better, she could pretend to or feel close anyway. "For fun, for my scrapbook journal. So I can remember you when I go home. Who knows if or when I'll see you again."

Well, when she guilted him like that… (and reminded him how absent he was at the family table) "Ok. As long as no one else sees the answers. I could get in trouble at work." Clearly he couldn't mention that in his line of work "trouble" meant being tracked down and assassinated. But how (and why) would any of his enemies get a hold of a little girl's notebook? Especially when the majority of them assumed he was still hunkering down somewhere in France. Since his shunning by the Talesco family, he doubted Chloe would readily display the book to them. In conclusion, there wasn't any tangible harm in humoring the girl. Satisfied, Arthur resumed consumption of his pizza.

"First," Chloe took a second to sip her soda, "what's your middle name?"

Family. She was family. Plus, she already knew (and shared) his true last name so not much more damage could be done if she knew: "Nicholas."

It took her some time to scribble in the answer. The little girl seemed overly excited about the information. Arthur was fervently asked the next question: "Favorite color?"

"Hunter green." Green was just as good an answer but Arthur was specific about details. The variety in shades of green? Near endless. He hated olive green as well as pea green. Lime green was too phosphorescent for his taste. Mint green was nice; Arthur's opinion could be swayed either way on that. There was a single shade of green that he truly liked without doubt and that was Hunter—and it happened to be his favorite of all in the color spectrum.

Chloe turned the page in her book and jotted down his answer. Without looking up, she questioned, "Favorite animal?"

The Point Man chewed in between thoughts, "Funny, I've never actually given thought to that one." His eyes wandered up to the corners of the ceiling (the owners of the restaurant should have the grout between the ceiling tiles cleaned). What animal did he favor? "I guess I like wolves…" Arthur did appreciate their loyal pack mentality and regal way of carrying themselves.

The child's tongue ran along the corner of her mouth as she focused on her penmanship. It was quite cute. When her previous written sentence was complete she turned the page again and her tongue returned inside, "Favorite food?"

The man gave her a clue before the dab of a napkin on his cheek, "We had it your first night here."

"Spaghetti?" scrunched Chloe's face. Arthur simply nodded; it didn't do much good. She was already focused on filling in the answer before waiting for his confirmation. For the next inquiry, Chloe dreamily smiled in a way that made him feel uncomfortable—like her next question would be something embarrassing. With chin propped in her hand, she quizzed, "What's your favorite memory?" Ah. Embarrassing indeed.

It popped into his head like a burst of light: White and daisies everywhere, gauzy curtains flowing in the wind, the most beautiful woman in the world shyly smiling up at him through her eyelashes. He felt her smooth skin and bumps of her knuckles on the pad of his thumb like he was caressing her hand in real time. The red booth behind Chloe faded and all he saw was the scene in his mind: The beautiful woman's eyes crinkling from a smile so wide it enveloped him up in its glow, her perfect pink painted lips opening to repeat the two words that had bound them together for the rest of their lives (or was _supposed_ to)… With eyes stuck in their spot and mind somewhere far off, Arthur distractedly answered Chloe, "The moment Ariadne said I do and our first kiss as husband and wife." That very second he felt Ariadne hum against his mouth, her fingers tug at his lapels tenderly, the fabric of her dress and the shape of her waist along his palms. "Sometimes if I close my eyes and strain my ears, I can relive it." His eyes squeezed shut so he could muster all his energy and put it towards digging up that memory and dragging it closer. So he could hear her honeyed voice chuckling after their lips parted. _That's crazy…The Point Man's my husband. Can you believe that?_

Chloe's voice interrupted, "What's your—" and his eyes reflexively opened. Ariadne was gone. The emptiness in his hands was too potent a feeling for him to cope with. It was like she'd left him all over again, walked out and broken his heart right there in the pizza parlor. Arthur got angry. He'd allowed his selfish need to remember his wife and pretend they were still together take over and make him show vulnerability in front of Chloe. Like a clam, he snapped shut again. No longer hungry, tired of sitting. Tired of little kids and their nonstop prodding. "I think that's enough questions for now. Are you finished with your pizza?" The Point Man stood up and piled their plates on a tray without her answer.

"Yeah…" Chloe shoved in an enormous last bite of the piece she was holding and dropped the rest on the tray. She lied to appease him. "I'm stuffed."

Scrambling to keep up and not be left behind, the girl closed up her book and hooked the pen onto it as he was throwing the trash away and scurried through the tables and out the door to be on his heels as he walked. She smartly kept her lips tight as they went. Her last question must've hurt his feelings or made him mad or something…she hugged the notebook tighter out of worry and searched for their car along the curb. It seemed like every time she brought up Ariadne, Uncle Arthur got all quiet and sad and then strange and robot acting. Chloe eyed him a few times just to check if he was glaring or frowning but his face looked blank. He did swallow a lot though… A block later (which felt like forever in silence) Arthur quipped, "Hope you're not _too_ stuffed. I was going to drop by M&M World on our way back."

Her eyes widened and her slumped posture shot straight, "I can make room."

"I don't want you to make yourself sick," warned the Uncle while cutting across the sidewalk to the car and unlocking it with a push of the fob button.

She copied the man by opening her door, sliding in, and quickly buckling, "I'm a tiny Talesco. I've got to _persist_. Like you told me."

"Gluttony may be the one exception," he squinted at her and put the car in gear to pull out.

The window of opportunity was closing. Chloe had to think fast or risk the loss of chocolate and chocolate was a matter very, very important to the little girl. To her, that wasn't a loss she could afford. "Well…why don't we bring something home and save it for when we're not so full?"

The hopeful tone in her voice and (almost pleading but not quite) eyes of hers glued to his face amused him. Made him lighten up a bit. Not because he was vindictive or sadistic and enjoyed the candy-induced desperation of a child but because the memory of his wedding was slowly disappearing again and he was already headed to the M&M's store with Chloe's same thought in mind. He praised her idea anyways (it was basically like praising his own), "Excellent idea. Why didn't I come up with it?"  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"Come on, come on! Your legs are so long why are you _so_ _slow_?" For being a petite eight (and a half, sorry) year old, Chloe was supernaturally strong. Perhaps it was the dance training; that _did_ involve regular exercise and building a strong core and lean but durable muscle.

"Because it's crowded and I'm not interested in shoving people to get through. We don't have a time limit." Arthur's shirt sleeve was in danger of being ripped from the shoulder with the force she was tugging it down the sidewalk. It was one of his new Ralph Lauren's, he'd be extremely irritated if any harm came to it. "I can see it!" At two blocks away, her excitement got to be too much and she let go of his sleeve. She bobbed and dodged around people until he wasn't sure if he could see the top of her head anymore. "Chloe," he called. Still slightly able to hear her squealing about how close it was. "Chloe," Arthur strained his head above the rest to catch sight of her bright blue boots half a block ahead. God, kids could be so _frustrating_. He was responsible for her, couldn't she cooperate and make his job easier?! "Stop moving!" The instruction was so loud, deep, and frankly scary that not only did Chloe's foot halt mid-air but three strangers around him plus the homeless man sitting against the wall did as he asked. Contrary to his earlier disinterest in shoving people, he did so readily now.

Like a statue, the little girl was still frozen mid-step when his hand clasped on her shoulder. "You stay right in front of me. More than three steps ahead and we go straight back to the penthouse. You understand?" She nodded her head profusely back at him, still sideways glancing at the store and bouncing in place like she had ants in her pants. To keep herself satisfied with their pace when he continued walking (sloooooowly), Chloe jogged alongside Arthur. Most of it was in place (because he was moving as fast as a baby turtle!) but finally, _FINALLY, _the two Talescos stepped foot inside the candy store.

Chloe was in instant awe at the bright colors and M&M products before her. Arthur could hear the choir of angels singing in her head. No, Arthur could literally hear it. Chloe was standing in the middle—partially blocking the entrance—mouth agape, arms outstretched, chiming: "Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelaaaaaaylujaaaaaaaah." A younger couple that scooted around her and one of the employees by the door were all chuckling at her enthusiasm, an elderly woman smiled down at her and Arthur, and a couple families eyed her humorously as they separated to go around her. Arthur was less amused than the other patrons and the only person embarrassed. He apologized then shushed and hurried her out of the way and into the aisles. He couldn't help but wonder whether his brother and Sydney had raised the kid in a barn. A sheltered one at that. She was oblivious to the dangers of a big city like New York.

She squealed while picking up a pack of pretzel m&m's then tossed them down and shot across the way to pick up a pack of mint filled. Then her eyes skimmed across the tops of the shelves and then at the rows of candy against the walls. Arthur followed her dutifully into the next section and waited patiently for her to touch all the differently shaped dispensers. Arthur didn't have much of a sweet tooth so the overwhelming amount of chocolate wasn't as deeply enthralling to him as it was to the child. Ariadne was the complete opposite; And little Ender was just like his mother. They could live off chocolate. Ender's favorite food was brownies. You could bribe the little boy to do anything for a Hershey Kiss (though parents shouldn't bribe their children to behave). Ender and Ariadne would share a small bowl of chocolate ice cream nearly every night before bed and the only cereal they kept in the house were Coa Coa Puffs. So while Arthur couldn't empathize with the way Chloe was feeling like his wife and son probably could if they were there, he was used to chocolate addicts. Chloe spun to look up the stairs and see large tubes full of different colored m&m's and that was her tipping point.

The little girl gasped, covered her mouth with both hands, and stopped breathing with eyes so wide Arthur was afraid she was about to faint. He studied her closely, slightly worried. He almost asked what was wrong when she looked up at him and breathily stated, "It's like we're in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory…"

Arthur furrowed his brows and surveyed the store. Perhaps through a child's eyes…"I suppose it sort of looks like that," he indulged her.

"I'm going to pass out," no one thing could keep her attention. Good lord, the kid was going to have a heart attack over candy. Eight (and a half) was entirely too young to have one and yet, she may be the very first exception.

"Please don't," said the uncle. Chloe looked at the 'create your own' area in the back like it was magic. It was hard not to let the twinkle in her eyes have a minor affect on him, "Want to go make your own bag?"

"Yes please! I want to make a rainbow of them; will you help me?"

"I—" He had to lengthen his strides and double up on the stairs to keep up with her. Taking care of children was exhausting. He'd forgotten that part. Wasn't the chasing around supposed to stop after they turned four or something? Arthur was hoping Ender was entering the stage where it'd stop but Chloe dashed his dreams. Looked like the darting around phase lasted much longer. Chloe grabbed a plastic bag off the wall, "Roy-G-Biv…I should do red m&m's first, huh?"

Arthur shrugged, "I would go backwards and do violet first. You want the red to be on top to have a proper representation of a rainbow."

Chloe bit the edge of her lip and marched to the first shade of purple she saw, "This good?"

The man shook his head, "Violet is deeper than that. It has more of a red tone in it." Taking a step back, he used deductive reasoning to find the exact shade closest to the reality. It was farther right, "That one there." A pile of violet colored m&ms poured into the bottom of her bag and Chloe shook it to line them evenly along the bottom. The two Talescos took the colors one by one and carefully chose which looked like the real thing (aka a picture Arthur pulled up on his phone. Do it correctly or not at all, right?) "Is this a good red?" She stood behind a teenaged boy filling up his bag with the colors of the Alabama football team and pointed at the tube he was using.

Arthur nodded, "Perfect."

She proudly crammed a slew of red candies into the top of her bag and watched Uncle Arthur twist and tie the top. It was a thing of beauty…tiny chocolates that made up the rainbow. Arthur offered to carry it to the register for her but she wanted to hold it. She tried to hold her prized sweets as close to her as she could without crushing them or messing up their order. Her pace returned to normal speed. So much so that it was the Point Man waiting on the little girl to keep up now. He waited at the bottom of the stairs for her, eyebrows at the top of his head because of her lazy strolling. Chloe sighed happily going down the last few stairs, "I just love M&M's…thank you _SO _much, Uncle Arthur."

Once she reached the bottom she skipped along in front of him. So carefree. Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't softened when she thanked him. Maybe the chasing after her and tolerating her constant chatter wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. He was rusty…knowing what to do when a glimmer of sentiment flickered in him was forgotten when Ariadne took Ender and walked out. What did he do for them? He brought Ari flowers and scarves and Ender, toys and treats…whatever they desired, just to see that sparkle he hated to admit he recognized in Chloe's eye. It'd been a year or two since he'd made someone happy like that…and it was a nice feeling…Maybe he could get his niece a T-shirt too. Keep that ability up.

xxxxxxx

That day at the dance studio had not been one of Chloe's favorites. She didn't know how all the other little girls—some of which she called her friends—could be so mean. She left camp downtrodden, her mind on nothing else but not having a mommy to take her shopping or fix her tutu anymore. If she didn't have all her little friends at dance, who did she have in the world? Who was she going to talk to at dance now? No one thought she was cool without a mom. And how long was it going to take for Chloe to feel ok? She wanted her dad to scoop her up into his arms and tell her everything would be alright. She needed a reassuring kiss on the forehead from her mom. But she couldn't have either. All she knew in that moment, sitting curled up in Uncle Arthur's car was that she'd officially lost all friends and family because of that stupid accident—even the ones that weren't involved in it.

All she knew in _this_ particular moment, though, was that she had pretty nails, a belly full of pizza and a bunch of M&M stuff. Not only did Uncle Arthur let her have candy but he was very generous. He let her get a pillow that looked like a bag of m&ms (that she spotted when they first walked in) and a t-shirt to commemorate her trip after the candy was gone. The best thing he'd broke down and purchased for her was tucked into the crook of her arm. It was a bright blue stuffed monkey wearing a m&m souvenir t-shirt that she so lovingly named Emmett. He was a very special monkey because Arthur picked it out and bought it for her. She'd say that all day that day was arguably the sweetest he'd been to her since she'd been there—if she could use 'Uncle Arthur' and 'sweet' in the same sentence, that is. Chloe had only owned Emmett a total of sixteen minutes but she loved him so so so _much_. Her and Uncle Arthur shared a look over the doorman—Mr. Max—who had fallen asleep on his book of Sudoku. It's true, a look wasn't much. It wasn't a smile or a laugh or anything but it was _something. _Chloe thought to herself: Arthur had nice eyes. All chocolatey and crinkly in the corners. With a smidge of humor in them, he seemed like a warmer human being. He was relatable, reachable. At _that_ moment, she'd forgotten all those other little girls' names. Them and their exclusive sleepover and inconsiderate comments were non-existent. It became the best day ever.

Arthur was oblivious to the way she smiled up admiringly at him in the elevator. He was checking the emails on his phone as she traced his neatly gelled hairline, the shape of his jaw and his nice clothes, with her impressionable eyes. She bet Uncle Arthur wasn't afraid of anything at all. He always looked brave and important and strong and _perfect._ In _that_ moment, for the first time in forever…Chloe felt like everything would be ok. Because Uncle Arthur was there and he somehow made everything better. It didn't matter that he didn't smile that much or if he rarely laughed or if he didn't like hugs or was super strict about keeping things organized. He would take care of her, she really believed he would. Chloe's small hand tentatively and shyly rose to hold his free one.

But she only held air when he pocketed it. It was alright…she told herself and moved her arm to help the other one hold her monkey. Emmett showed that Uncle Arthur cared in his own way. The elevator doors slid open with a resounding ding and Arthur stepped out first, pulling the key out of his pocket. "Come on tiny Talesco."

xxxxxxx

_I love it all, every line and every scar.  
>And I wish that I could make you see.<br>This is where you ought to be.  
>Come down to me.<br>_ —Come Down to Me by Saving Jane

Okie doke. Given that my inspiration keeps working the way it is and this story continues to flow easily, I'm really going to try to stick to two updates a week if possible. M/TH or M/F possibly cause those days I have the most time work-wise. Not promising but I'm gonna try! I'm just so excited about this story.

I've got pics of Chloe's mani/pedi and lunchbox stuff on my profile if anyone's curious. Half the fun of writing it are finding things for visual aid. It's like shopping for my story lololol.


	4. Hammer Fist!

_Neverlandspirit: _ Right? She is, how else am I going to torment Arthur than making him spend time with someone who reminds him of Ari? Haha. Question, in what way did you think Chloe was going to end up like Ender? I'm just curious cause I sort of don't understand what you mean by that. And no prob. Love you for reviewing! lol _Coffeebean: _Yes. Arthur is anal about everything including the perfection of a little girl's ballet bun. Hahaha. In Arthur's intellectual mind he was totally being bitchy about it. It does, doesn't it! And M&M World is totally real. The rainbow m&ms you can fill your bag with is TOTALLY REAL. I've been there and its cray cray. Definitely heaven on earth. Thank you! _Lauraa-x: _You know it. I agree, that domestic (ish) Arthur is a really refreshing take on the character—speaking in a way of writing it. It's actually been easy to sit down and spew story out because it's a different side of Arthur than I'm used to writing. I'm happy that's translating and feeling refreshing from a reader's standpoint as well. Inspires me even more. Aww…And yup! Keep our fingers cross I stick to my sched. Hahahaha. So far, so good. _Guest: _Thanks bud! _The Pink Archer: _Maybe because the last sentence almost sounded sentimental? Like he was addressing her endearingly by calling her a tiny Talesco? Yeah I'm sure that sleepover was real crowded and trashy. Think of it as him getting practice for a possible reunion with Ender! Think of how much his newfound and growing sweetness will impress ARIADNE! ;)

Yo, _SiSi4, _you're literally the best. Thanks for favoriting and following me. I'm both honored and honoured (which is just honored spelt the Canadian way but still very grateful).  
>xxxxxxx<p>

**Chapter 4: Hammer Fist! **

Echappe, échappé, changement, changement, soubresaut, land in fifth demi plié. The dancers in group two completed their last petite allegro for the day and held their positions for inspection. "Necks elongated, shoulders down, head towards the direction of the front foot…" Chloe lifted her chin as the instructor did a last walk through the classroom to correct their posture and placement. "Fifth, Maia, not third." Chloe heard behind her and cut her eyes to the window to see Maia's mom's reaction. Miss Westwood might as well be in the classroom taking ballet with the children. She was always overly concerned with how the dancers were doing and bossed Maia around through the windows because she wanted her daughter to be the best. If Maia didn't get called out and praised enough during the day, her mom scolded her on the way out. In a way, Chloe felt bad for the mean brat. "Better than yesterday, Jacqueline." Chloe heard right beside her. Through the observation window, Linny's mom was smiling and silently clapping for her. Linny's mom was nice; she cared but wasn't scary about it. Sensing Mrs. Willes behind her, Chloe tightened everything up and smiled for assessment. "You've taken your corrections from barre. Very nice, Chloe." The small dancer wanted to jump up and down but controlled herself and looked to the window. He was usually early but Uncle Arthur wasn't standing at the window and watching with some of the other parents…she saw him between one of the other mom's arms, sitting on his bench in the corner on his phone. Her smile faltered a smidge.

"Thank you, ladies. Reverends."

The group of girls (and one little boy) stepped to each side and curtsied (the boy bowed) to thank their teacher for class before grabbing their water bottles and exiting. "We'll see you on Monday. Practice, practice, auditions for your parts in the show are a week from today."

Since Friday was a half day, Arthur was there to pick Chloe up at eleven forty-five. He had her calf-high cowboy boots out and ready for her to slip her feet into. He didn't know where the clothes she wore over her tights and leotard were or he would've gotten them out as well. Wanting him to be proud (thinking he might be more interested in her if he knew how good she was doing), she relayed the day's highlights, "Mrs. Willes thinks I'm doing really well and Miss Lister thinks I should try out for the Bluebird!" She explained it to Arthur, showing him the packet all children had to bring home on information about the show. At the end of the seven weeks the children were allowed to perform in a special charity showcase with professional ballerinas and male dancers from the prestigious American Ballet Theatre. They'd only have one group-dance as a whole. Three small dancers got the opportunity to have a duet or solo if they auditioned and landed one of the featured character roles. The ballet was announced: Sleeping Beauty. And all the little girls in the camp had their hearts and eyes set on the role that got the solo and danced for the prima princess: the Bluebird.

Arthur was actually very pleased to hear his niece was progressing, "That's excellent." In fact, he sort of expected it of her. Not in a way that was displayed to her; certainly not like the other guardians that traipsed through the studio with competitiveness in their eyes. It wasn't like grades where a certain level of greatness was enforced. Arthur put no pressure on her, in fact, it almost seemed like he didn't care for any of it. But being a Talesco, he wasn't surprised she was excelling. Both Arthur and Greg were black belts by eleven years old in both Jiu Jitsu and Tae Kwon Do. Greg was a valued first string player and Arthur was the renowned goalie on their soccer team through middle school. Greg took up surfing and basketball in high school whereas Arthur was more of a swim team and track type guy. With ROTC training and frequent summer boot camps ("for fun" and "to keep them in shape" their father claimed) it was safe to say that their side of the family was _extremely _athletic and _extremely _skilled at it. That wasn't cockiness or bias talking that was the room dedicated to their separate trophy cases and team uniforms at their parents' house talking. Chloe doing well in ballet meant that their gene was still running strong.

Chloe pulled up her denim shorts over her tights (The shorts were a light wash that came up to her belly button) and stepped into her boots. Next, she pulled her slightly oversized tie-dye m&m shirt over her head and tucked it in as he asked, "Did you show your friends you got your nails done yesterday?" Maybe it made him a jerk but Arthur noticed with satisfaction that the other little girls (including the atrocious little monster Maia and her mother) had messily done self-polished nails. Teach them to exclude his niece… If he were vindictive enough he could have them 'excluded' from every nail salon within the tri-state area. "Yeah," she shrugged, "they really like them. I shared some of my m&ms on our snack break too. To my new friends though."

"New friends?" Arthur took her lunchbox for her and stood while she zipped up her backpack and slung it on.

"Mhm. They're not really your friends if they're not nice to you. So I made new ones." She waved at Ms. Baublit—who blew her a kiss. Ms. Baublit had become a quick fan of Chloe Talesco's. The initial soft spot probably developed at the beginning of the week with Chloe's tiny heat episode. Ms. Baublit had once been a ballerina herself but tore her Achilles tendon her junior year of high school which put her out of commission so long she lost her flexibility. When she was healed enough to go back en pointe, she was so far behind that her chances at getting into a company after graduation were dashed. She ended up getting a degree in marketing and working as the receptionist and marketing assistant to the ABT which was as close to the art as she could get. Since then she'd gained some weight and a few ignorant children (and adults) sometimes made inconsiderate offhand comments about the irony of someone her size working there. Chloe, however, was one of the sweet ones. While she was resting and eating her banana on Monday, her and Ms. Baublit exchanged a few stories, Ms. Baublit's history being one of them. Every day Chloe found something about Ms. Baublit's hair or outfit she could comment on the beauty of and brought her some leftover treats from her lunch bag during the girls' lunch break. It was easy for the two to become buddies.

As Arthur and his niece were walking out the front door, a taller skinny redhead that looked eleven and a tan brunette that looked Chloe's age ran over and tackled her in hugs. "Bye Chloe! See you Monday!"

She giggled, "Bye Linny. Bye Emma."

By the kid's request, they hunted down a hot dog cart for lunch and then grabbed a pretzel for the commute back. Today was cooler and breezier after the rain that morning so it was a nice day to walk. Arthur opted for a plain salt pretzel but Chloe went for the garlic parmesan. It seemed like most of it was crumbling off onto the pavement but she acted like there was enough to enjoy it, so he let it be. When they walked Arthur insisted Chloe walk in front of him—so he could keep an eye on her obviously and—so they wouldn't be in the way of sidewalk traffic. Chloe kept looking back at him when she talked and he was sure she was going to run into a pole or trip into a busy intersection or puddle of hobo pee or something. No matter how many times he reminded her to keep facing forward, she never remembered. "Uncle Arthur, what kind of stuff did you do at my age? Like sports and stuff?"

"Face front, we're fixing to cross the street," Arthur took her shoulder and turned her around. A vice-like grip as he gently pushed her across he crosswalk. "Your dad and I were mostly involved in the martial arts, Jiu Jitsu and Tae Kwon Do until we were eleven. Then we dabbled into soccer and other things."

Chloe gasped (nearly dropped her pretzel) and twisted back but Arthur forcefully squared her shoulders until they were safely on the other side. Then she (frustratingly) turned around again, "I take Tae Kwon Do!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Really?" Additional to the ballet, he thought maybe she'd take piano or singing or something else that related to music. "Where are you at?"

"I have a blue belt; I'm working on form 5, my fourth geup." Good thing they were close to the edge of the sidewalk and mostly out of people's way because the little girl considerably slowed down. Mouth full of pretzel, demonstrating each move, "Cross stance," her hand holding the pretzel shot out (again nearly dropping it), "Outside block," and repeated on the other side. Arthur reared back because his chest was almost struck with her—"Outside _knifehand_ block!" The Point wasn't too concerned about her hitting him because after a week he was starting to come to terms with her tendency to randomly perform things in public. However, he was concerned about the stranger she came a hair's breadth away from knocking out as she did her: "HAMMER FIST!"

Arthur grabbed the strap of her backpack and pulled her down the side street for a shortcut—mostly because it was less crowded, "I'm familiar with Form 5, you don't have to do it in the middle of the walkway. You're going to—" he couldn't say 'piss off' could he…"scare a stranger with your intense abilities."

"Oh," Chloe widened her eyes. She didn't realize people might be afraid of her attacking them. They didn't know she also learned self-control in class…for all they knew, she'd beat em' bloody. "Oops."

After popping the last bit of pretzel into his mouth and tossing the trash, Arthur smirked, "Remind me to work with you on your hammer fist before you go home."

Since days were normally hectic between getting ready for dance, dancing, and then getting ready for the next day of dance, the two Talescos were grateful for a relaxing day off. Chloe mostly doodled and crafted in her notebook while Arthur watched documentaries on the Discovery Channel and made some business calls in his study. There was an hour where Arthur napped on the couch and allowed Chloe to watch one of the other movies she brought…The Small Fishwoman or something like that. It was none other than spaghetti for dinner _(again) _and a small bowl from her m&m bag before bed. A mundane day under all circumstances but Arthur fell into bed eagerly and fell asleep as soon as hit head hit the pillow.

_Arthur brought in the requested plate of Frito nachos with scoops of vanilla ice cream and pickle chips atop it to his wife in the bedroom. She was propped up on about ten pillows with the food network on tv. In all honesty, she wasn't even halfway watching the show but if Arthur tried to change the channel, it was world war three. Ariadne was rubbing her protruding stomach and cooing to it, "Hey little man. How are things going in there?" Once she looked up and saw her food entering the room, her grin got wider, "You excited for ice cream and nachos?" Her grabby fingers reached Arthur's direction, "Mommy is..."_

_Setting the tray on the nightstand (MUCH to Ariadne's disdain) and then crawling into bed next to her, Arthur teased by making her wait. It was somewhat fair. They'd already had a full tub of vanilla ice cream but she claimed the brand they had was gross, so he was forced (whatever, as soon as the spoon was in her mouth and her eyes squinted, Arthur hopped up and promised to be back with better) to go out again and get some. "You're so sure it's a boy, aren't you?"_

_Obviously, Ariadne was annoyed she wasn't given her food right away. She was starving. She was always starving these days…how dare he want to talk and be all cutesy? "Of course," huffed the woman, "I have an intuition about these things. It _is _in _my_ stomach."_

"_Well, we'll see Tuesday." Arthur smugly grinned at her, "I knew you couldn't wait until the baby was here to find out the gender," his fingers brushed under her chin, "You're too impatient not to cave."_

_Ariadne scowled, "Yeah? Well _I_ know you're going to owe me five hundred dollars when it turns out to be boy. So ha!" She poked his chest._

_Insistent on annoying her and loving every minute of her adorable pregnant agitation, the Point Man rubbed his nose along her temple flirtatiously, "How bout I just owe you a kiss?"_

"_No." The mother-to-be crossed her arms, "Cause then it's a win-win and I want you to lose." Arthur chuckled and stole a kiss anyway. True to her recent bipolar nature caused by hormones, Ariadne was suddenly happy and hummed into his lips. She grabbed his skin through his shirt and pulled him closer. Then— she gasped and pulled away like lightning, grasping her stomach._

_All of Arthur's snarky attitude died. He turned into the deer in the headlights all first time expectant fathers were. He looked ready to have a heart attack. Hands out, ready to do something but shaking with sudden nerves, "What? What happened?" His eyes ran up and down her body looking for something wrong, "It's too early for your water to break, isn't it?"_

"_The baby kicked," Ariadne yelped with delight. Urgently, Arthur's hand was taken and pressed to her stomach. After a minute of no movement, Arthur frowned. The baby didn't like him already. "It's not doing it…"_

_The Architect pulled him gently by the ear, "Here, kiss me again. Make my heart beat faster."_

_No more than a second after their lips met, Arthur felt a flutter beneath his palm and pulled away as fast as Ariadne had the first time. He couldn't believe it. The baby kept kicking and kicking. The doctor's appointments, the ultrasounds, buying gender neutral supplies—he knew what they were doing it for. But feeling the baby kick made it all real. Arthur was going to be a daddy and in three months that baby would kicking in Arthur's arms. His grin couldn't be contained. "What are we going to name him?"_

_Ariadne combed her fingers through Arthur's hair and suggested, "I like Reese or Nicholas like your middle name—"_

"_Nicholas Talesco sounds like a tongue twister or something…" _

_The Architect looked sheepish, "What do you think of Ender?" _

"Ender?" _the man gave her a perplexed look. What kind of name was that?_

_She defended her choice, "I know it's unorthodox but _my _name's Ariadne for heaven sakes."_

"_I love your name…" protested the man kissing her neck, making the baby try to match her escalated heartbeat with its feet. "Ariadne, Ariadne, Air-ee-add-nee…" he kissed up to her ear. It tickled so much she laughed and pushed him off. Tried to make him seriously think about it again, "We could name him Andrew and just call him Ender. It's from a book. I just finished it and I don't know—maybe it's the hormones that made it resonate so strong but I fell in love with the character. I'd like our son to be like him." _

_Arthur tilted his head and fixed her with a fake glare of jealousy, "Excuse me—_Fell in love_ with the character?"_

_She deadpanned, "The character is six, Arthur." The book in question was conveniently set by her leg on the bed so she grabbed it and handed it to him, "you don't have to read it but the synopsis is on there somewh—"_

Arthur was roused from his dream by a girlish scream. "No! No, Mommy!" With his brain still lingering in the world of his memory, Arthur believed it was Ender for a split second and looked beside him in the bed to see if Ariadne heard him calling her. If she was already on her feet, pulling on her cardigan as she normally was when the boy had night terrors. As he blinked awake to reality he realized he was alone and the child he was hearing was his niece not his child. "Mommy, please! Wake up! _Mommy!_" The Point Man got out of bed and padded to the living room.

Chloe's sheets were pulled out from the bottoms and tangled all over the place. Penny and Emmett had been strewn around, her m&m pillow knocked completely off the makeshift bed. Her face was red from tears, her head and hair sweaty from her severe tossing and turning. Arthur was at a loss for what to do. Ariadne handled this with Ender because when he had nightmares he always called for_ her_…he stood back, dumbfounded, and weighed the pros and cons of waking her up or seeing if she'd quiet down herself. As he stood over her, wiping the crust from his eyes, Chloe made the decision for him. She sat straight up and wailed, "Daddy!" Arthur stepped back, startled. "Daddy! I'm scared; come here!" The child acted awake but Arthur couldn't be sure. She was staring at her feet and sobbing uncontrollably. Was she sleep-talking? She hadn't noticed him.

What Chloe did do was let out a deafening scream, "Daddy!"

At the noise, Arthur sat on the edge of the futon and took her shoulder, "Hey. It's ok…" As he did each night after she climbed into bed, the man awkwardly patted her back.

"Daddy?" the child asked confusedly. Her usual bright eyes were so full of water he couldn't tell where her pupils were. And her voice was nasally from the crying.

Arthur struggled to be gentle with his let down, "No, Chloe, it's Uncle Arthur. Your dad isn't—it's Uncle Arthur." She began to hiccup quicker again so he reached across and plucked Penny from the floor. He hoped giving her the toy would help with the disappointment. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Chloe nodded and sniffled, "I saw my mommy and she wouldn't wake up." In the accident, Greg died on impact. Sydney was hospitalized for a week before succumbing to her injuries. But most-likely Chloe was subjected to seeing her condition in the hospital and it had left an imprint on her subconscious.

"I'm sorry." Arthur winced. Chloe's sniveling created the soundtrack between them. Only once she calmed down and her cheeks dried did the Point Man start to untwist her sheets and return Emmett and m&m pillow back to her. "Are you ok, now?" he went to stand up but she protested, "No. Please stay."

He looked around the room stiffly, "I'll stay until you're asleep again, how's that?" The little girl hugged her elephant Penny super tight and halfheartedly agreed. Arthur swallowed…a potential offer on the tip of his tongue. He was Arthur so he was hesitant but if it made his brother's daughter feel better than it was a family debt he should pay. "What if I read to you a little?"

Nod.

Arthur sighed exasperatedly. He ground his jaw as some form of preparation for looking like a softie in front of the kid. The Point Man looked anywhere but at the little girl but sure enough got up to retrieve a book. A hardcopy. Aside from his small pocket notebook, Arthur normally preferred keeping long texts like that via electronics—He believed it was more efficient. You'd never lose them because they were always in the cloud, always in one spot. Ariadne, on the other hand loved the tangibility of real books. Loved turning the pages, feeling them between her fingers. She loved the smell of them. When she left, this book was one of the few things of hers left behind. It'd been tucked away in the bottom of his sock drawer. Out of sight. He went right to it though. Able to find it in the dark as easily as finding his own nose. Ariadne's favorite passages were still marked by dog-eared pages and it felt like her touch radiated from the cover.

He returned, switching on his phone to use as a light, "Have you ever read Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card?"

"Yes, but it's been a while," the girl yawned (maybe he wouldn't have to read but one chapter), "I really liked it."

The Point Man's hand glided across the foreword nostalgically, "Me too." Quickly, he wrenched himself out of his forthcoming thoughts and turned to the first page and began: "'I've watched through his eyes, I've listened through his ears, and I tell you he's the one.'"

"_Knock knock," the nurse came in to return the baby after his bath. She brought in some meds for Ariadne but decided to sit them and a pitcher of water on the counter after seeing she'd fallen asleep. Arthur's wife had a very rough time during labor; Arthur was out of his mind watching her go through it. They expected complications because of how tiny the woman was and to be truthful, watching Ariadne's belly grow to unnatural proportion made Arthur worry how she'd fair giving birth way before the due date ever came. But his Architect was a trooper, she didn't even need the C-section the doctors considered. She held the baby right away, filled out _part _of the birth certificate and when they took the baby for vitals and a bath Arthur was able to coax her into a few bites of jello before she passed out from exhaustion. He was more than content to sit by the bed and comb lovingly through her hair while she slept until the nurse entered with his son. He held him earlier but not for long because Ariadne (who'd done all the real work, mind you) was anxious to see him up close before he was taken away. He was swaddled in a blue and white striped blanket, sleeping peacefully. The nurse switched Ariadne's IV bag then let the new little family be with a reminder that they needed to finish filling out the birth certificate. Once she was gone, Arthur reached in the bassinet and took the newborn in his arms. It took some maneuvering and the blanket unfortunately loosened as he adjusted his arms to cradle the head correctly. Arthur's index finger caressed the tiny hand that popped out of hiding—the one that wore the blue id bracelet. _Talesco _was all it said because they still hadn't agreed on a name_. _He barely knew this miniature handsome alien-looking person but he already loved it more than himself. He didn't just love the baby because it was his own. Or just because it was Ariadne's (because he adored everything having to do with her). The baby boy was _theirs. _Both their blood ran through his veins. He was their two halves turned whole personified. "We need to decide on a name, Buddy." Arthur ran through the list, "Do you like Mason? Or Elliot? Or Miles?" _

_Arthur glanced over at his sleeping wife, then at the book on the windowsill. The Point Man had read it— finished it in the waiting room before she was taken back, actually. "Andrew? And we could call you Ender…" he whispered down at the newborn. The baby blinked his eyes open and stared both tiredly but curiously at the Point Man. And they were the sweetest eyes Arthur had ever seen. Comparable to Ariadne's he believed. But Blue. Now, most newborns start with blue and then it changes…but little did they know, their son's would only grow bluer and bluer. (Blue eyes ran in Ariadne's side of the family it just skipped her generation). "You like that one?" The baby batted his eyes at his daddy, prompting an, "Ender it is then. Your mommy will like that." The boy looked like he would drift back off at any moment just like his mother. Naturally, the daddy in Arthur kicked in for the first time and he began swaying from side to side. Watching as the baby's eyes slid closed again. Comfortable in his father's arms. Content with his name._

Chloe maneuvered her arm to cradle her head as the first chapter came to a close. "Think you'll be ok now, Tiny Talesco?" The man rubbed his eyes, his thumb keeping his place despite hoping he'd be given permission to close it. "I'm just down through that door if you need anything."

She hugged her new stuffed monkey next to her elephant and nodded but Arthur could see she was still upset. If there was one thing he learned about women from Ariadne, it was that when they said they were fine, they normally weren't. Judging from her conduct thus far (keeping her grief over her parents close to her heart to a point of near invisibility—what a true Talesco trait…) he knew Chloe was a little girl that pretended to be brave even when she wasn't. Now _he_ could pretend. He could pretend he didn't know that about her and that he didn't see the knit between her eyebrows and go back to bed blissfully "unaware"…but he was a better man than that. When he got up, it wasn't to leave. It was to walk around her mattress to the loveseat and pull it closer to the side of her bed. "Or how about I read chapter two?"

"Please?"

"Alright. This time, close your eyes and picture what I'm reading in your head, ok?" Arthur settled in as she pulled the covers over her ears and faced him with a close eyed smile (that eventually faded as she drifted further and further into dreamland). What did little girls dream about Arthur wondered? Fairies and rainbows? Worlds made of candy and cupcakes? She loved ballet; did she dream about performing on stage? What went on in that head of hers? Ariadne once told Arthur she used to dream of riding dragons and building castles, of saving the world and of Paris. Obviously. What did Ariadne dream about now? The few times that natural dreams crept into Arthur's head, they'd been of her and Ender. Memories good and bad. Did she dream of him? Did Ender dream of his dad? Did Ariadne miss him or was Arthur history with the slam of his car door that fateful morning? Had she already found another man? A better one? The logical side of him sardonically questioned '_That quick, Arthur?_' in such a way that he would've shrunk back in embarrassment if he had to physically face that part of himself. Maybe she slept happy and dreamlessly in the embrace of someone who hadn't failed her yet. God, he missed his family.

But a snippet of his family was right there in front of him: His brother's child. Someone who needed the love he yearned to give again…Still, Arthur struggled to give any more of his love away.  
>xxxxxx<p>

"Uncle Arthur…" a melodic voice whispered in his ear, "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey."

Arthur woke up slumped over the armrest of the loveseat. Right away his eyes burned from the daylight shooting into the living room from the windows. He smelled…butter? The Point Man sat up straighter and blinked into awareness as Chloe sat on the edge of her bed (which was made by the way) and smiled eagerly at him. "I made you breakfast!" She pointed at the wooden tray lying on the coffee table.

There was a bowl full of cheerios, two pieces of buttered toast, a neat trail of sliced bananas and a glass topped off with orange juice. Simple but made with the sincerest effort in the world. "I was going to make you scrambled eggs but I'm not allowed to use the stove without supervision. I asked Mr. Max from the front desk if he could supervise me over the intercom but I couldn't find your skillet so…"

Reluctantly touched, Arthur got down into the floor and scooted up to the table, "This looks delicious. Thank you." He moved the carefully lined silverware (a fork and spoon) to his plate so he could drape the napkin over his lap. It was folded like a newspaper hat because she wanted it to look fancy but didn't know any other technique besides a paper plane (and that didn't work very well or look very pretty when she tried.) "What about you though? Have you eaten?"

"Oh!" started the girl before she scurried off to the kitchen and back. Her breakfast looked less special. She only wanted a cup of applesauce, a single piece of toast and glass of milk. As soon as Arthur bit into his bread, he was startled by the damn deliciousness of it. No way his niece made it; she must've had Max order some up. That theory was almost plausible if not for the rest of the setup. It certainly didn't _look _professionally done. And where would she have gotten the money? Confusion made his eyebrows tilt downwards before he took another cursory bite. Sure enough, it was just as good if not better on the second bite.

His face, however, made Chloe nervous. The girl sheepishly asked, spoon hovering at her mouth, "Do you like it?"

"Best I've had in a long time," he punctuated with a satisfied crunch of the toast. "You make toast better than I do. The butter's completely melted but the toast isn't soft. I know Greg didn't teach you that. He burnt everything."

She shook her head, spooned her applesauce in, and folded her toast in half, "My mommy did."

Strangely, they were interrupted by Arthur's cell phone ringing. No one but her dance camp had any reason to call during this time frame so the Point asked her to be very quiet and answered warily, "This is Arthur." Chloe sipped on her milk, watching his downcast eyes intently. "Carson? Wait…no, wait. Hold on a moment." Covering the mouthpiece, he instructed, "I need to take a business call. Why don't you go take your bath since you missed one last night?"

Wanting to please him, Chloe obediently stood right away and reached for—

"Leave the dishes, I'll get them."

xxxxxxx

The Point Man paced in the hallway outside his apartment by the elevators, "No Carson, I can't."

"Why not?"

Arthur glanced at the front door, "You know I've got my hands tied with all the authorities poking around New York. To go active now will only get me ambushed. I'm not surfacing for at least another month and a half and besides that, I'm only working for the Hale brothers now."

"You'll be out of the country before they know which way is up."

Yeah but there was absolutely no way he was going to drop Chloe. She had no one else (but his parents. But he wasn't cruel enough to subject her to that again), how could he abandon her? He'd have to pull her out of camp before completion and that didn't seem fair. It was no way to respect his brother or sister-in-law's memory either. And if Ariadne were to ever hear, if they were reunited and she somehow found out he'd chosen dreamshare over family _again _what would she think? "Get another Point Man. I'm on my way out."

"Oh yeah. Like you were 'on your way out' to be with that Architect, right? Is this her idea again? Ariadne isn't worth it. Just find someone to screw around with and be done with the bitch—I got a guy that can forge divorce papers for you."

His failure to fulfill his promise to Ariadne spoken about like a joke hit a less than satisfying chord. Because not only did Ariadne recognize his shoddy loyalty when they were together but so did their peers. The jab to her worth pissed him off…because not only was she the best to be had in the way of Dream Architects but _because of her_ several jobs that should've been impossible were successful. Because of her Dom was no longer haunted by Mal and at home raising his kids. Because of Ariadne there were four extractors, two forgers, one chemist and three other point men still alive today. She saved lives with her cunning and her brilliance. She was worth her weight in gold on a business level, don't even get him started on how much she was worth on a personal level. How she was Arthur's singlehanded salvation once upon a time. He could be so angry with her for leaving him and ripping Ender away and he could be so heartbroken he couldn't see his hand in front of his face for the tears but he couldn't hate her for it. And no one else could either. So when Carson called her a bitch, Arthur snapped. "I'm _not_ available. And nor will I be available _to you_ any time in God's foreseeable future. You will not contact me, you will not contact others about me, you won't so much as take a step my direction lest I destroy your dreamshare career. And if you _ever _say a word in edgewise about my wife—_the mother of my child_—in such a disrespectful manner again… if you even utter Ariadne's name in a tone I see unfit, I swear I will hunt you down and fucking kill you. Good day."

And with that, Arthur hung up and reentered the penthouse in a huff. It hadn't taken him too long but Chloe always had trouble turning the handle for the water so he went to check on her. His room was unusually dark. As a habit, Chloe turned on all the lights and the tv in his room when she used his bathtub so she wouldn't feel so alone and get scared in the big apartment (since to give her privacy, he went all the way on the other end of the penthouse). Too, there was an absence of splashing or wading water. No little singing voice (she couldn't take a bath without singing). The biggest tell that she wasn't in there was that the bathroom door was wide open, just her towels and clothes sat on the closed toilet seat. Always thinking the worst, Arthur panicked. She wasn't on the couch watching tv when he walked in. There were no sounds coming from the pantry or fridge in the kitchen. It was never good when kids were really quiet. Either they were into something they weren't supposed to be and didn't want to get caught…or they were kidnapped. Fuck. Did she fall out one of the windows?! Or sucked in through an air vent? The kid was _teensy_. "Chloe?" Arthur called as he walked through all the rooms she frequented. He checked the closets, the half bath, the hallway outside again, through all the windows…the sliding door to their back porch.

Just before he decided to call the doorman and see if he'd seen hide or tail of her, with a sickening feeling, Arthur caught a sliver of light coming through the cracks of the door to his study. He both hated and needed that room but it was his secret. He must not have locked it back yesterday evening before bed. The door creaked as he pushed it open, stringing him out as he spotted the little girl sitting on the floor in front of his mahogany desk. His top and bottom drawer on the left side were hanging open and there were loose pictures everywhere: On the floor, across the surface of the desk, in one of her hands. Her other hand held a breakable picture frame and around her neck was a sloppily tied deep blue, dotted, satin scarf that hadn't seen daylight too long for Arthur's liking. "Chloe? What are—"

The child was ignorant of his irritation. The hoarse tone of anger hadn't registered because she was busy holding up the frame so Arthur could clearly see a young brunette woman, "This is your wife, huh?" The back of the frame had silver sharpie that marked the date and her name, "Ari-ad-ne."

"What are you doing in here?" The one room, _the one place _he instructed her never to step foot in and not only had Chloe done so but she'd gone through and sprawled all of his agonizing memories across his island of solace. Memories he kept hidden for a damn good reason.

Still, Chloe hadn't returned his embarrassed yet wrathful glare. "She's so pretty." She innocently admired the woman in the photograph, touched the face with her fingers. (Smudging the glass no doubt, Arthur thought.) The girl incautiously set the frame down on the edge of his desk and reached down for a print on the floor, "And that's your kid I guess." Again, the photo was turned over and a neatly inscribed date and name were present, "Ender. Like Ender's Game!"

The Point Man did his best not to glance at the pictures but there were too many and they were all around. Ariadne pushing Ender on the swing, Ariadne cooking dinner, Ender's first birthday party. Pictures he'd snuck of the Architect chilling on the beach on their honeymoon. Their first Christmas together. Each picture reminded him what he'd thrown away and he took it out on little girl in front of him. "Who do you think you are coming in here and rummaging through my things?"

At last, Chloe looked up and saw Arthur's distress. His normally tired and dull brown eyes looked wild and it scared her. She stuttered, "Well I—I couldn't find you to draw my bath so—"

"So you snuck into the one room I told you never to go in!" accused the man, slamming the door behind him with more force than intended. Chloe argued, "No! You said you work in here a lot and you had a call about work so I came to look for you! The door wasn't locked like normal so I thought it was ok!"

Likely story. What, she came to look for him and thought he might be hiding in the desk drawers? The man couldn't think straight. A picture of he and Ariadne on their wedding day sent him down a spiral of hurt and all he could do was yell. All he wanted was for his past to stop mocking him with its glee. He wanted everything in that room to be swallowed up into a black hole including him. "Put those down!" Arthur pointed madly. Chloe was so stunned her hands opened up and she dropped the pictures in her hand straight on the floor. Her face started to flush and her body tensed and all she was capable of was freezing while Arthur continued to berate her, "You have no right to touch them!" Chloe began slowly backing up like a scared animal afraid of its predator. "You have no right to be in here!" But his next yell, startled her into her little feet and she wasn't thinking. She turned to run backwards but the desk was there and she collided with the picture and the frame fell and broke. The glass went everywhere and Ariadne's picture was ripped a quarter way down the side.

Chloe felt like crying, "Oh no!" She hurried to pick the photo up from beneath the glass and brushed it off, handed it to him. "I'm sorry!"

"Damn it!" Arthur kicked the desk. "Look what you've done!" Despite his ire, what was really warping his attitude and sense of self were the first symptoms of a tearful breakdown and he was battling one of those more than he was in actuality scolding Chloe. Ariadne's scarf around her neck didn't help. _Please, Arthur don't walk out the door. Don't make me do this. _The Point Man remembered Ariadne wearing it the day before he left—the last day he ever spent with her. _You don't have to. Just wait for me one more time, ok? _One of those scenes from that last week with them started its loop in his mind and once that happened he knew he couldn't stop it. Couldn't hold back the memories of all the times she begged him not to go. He grabbed his head, "And take that off; that's not yours!"

"I'm sor—" Chloe began to cry and pull at the material to rid herself of it but Arthur interrupted her with grabbing handfuls of pictures and shoving them back into hiding. _Don't make me do this. _The Point Man wasn't handling it well. See, he portrayed it like he was angry with Chloe…and he was…but he mostly didn't want her to see him lose composure. _Please, Arthur, don't walk out the door. _Any minute Ariadne and Ender would have him huddled on the ground between the broken glass, heaving, pulling his hair out, and whispering their names. _Don't make me do this. _And no one should ever see him like that. But it was coming; he was on the verge.

_If you're going to leave me, Arthur, then _leave_._

"Get out! Get out!"

Chloe stumbled over herself and ran as far as she could get from the study.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_Their drawers and closet were all opened wide, stacks of Arthur's clothes sat on the bed waiting to be stuck into one of his bags. The duffel was on the floor and his suitcase sat upright by Ariadne's nightstand. He wasn't leaving for a week but being Arthur, he liked to pack that far in advance to ensure he had everything he'd possibly need. _

"_Wee!" Arthur tossed Ender into the air and caught him, eliciting a ripple of giggles. He looked over at his wife to see if she appreciated the amusement in the interaction as much as he did but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, Ariadne was pressed into the frame of their bathroom door with head in hands doing her best not to let Ender see her upset. Arthur instructed the kid on his hip, "You're going to be a good boy and take care of mommy while I'm gone, right?" Ender nodded as Arthur kissed his cheek and then ran off obliviously to play with his toys down the hall when Arthur put him down. The child wasn't very concerned about Arthur leaving. He was used to it. Arthur left all the time and every once and a while he'd come back and when he did, he brought presents. Meanwhile, he had mommy and Arthur (the teddy bear) and his kindergarten friends. What he _was _concerned about was waking up to find his mommy sitting against his bed crying that morning…but that was forgotten once Ariadne realized he was awake and busied him with their daily routine._

_When the man was sure Ender was caught up in trains and stuffed dinosaurs (he knew from the silly voices and choo choo sounds coming from the boys' room), Arthur snaked his arms around Ariadne's waist and cajoled, "Come on, Sweetheart, don't act so distraught." _

_She didn't push him away; She let him hold her but didn't show recognition to his gesture, "I can't help it. You're breaking my heart."_

_He tried to keep it light which was evident in his half chuckle and the way he rubbed his nose against her temple. "I'll be back in no time."_

"_But we won't be here."_

"_Ariadne," Arthur coaxed some more. Laying it on thick with his sugary tone, with the nimble fingers caressing her sides through her nightshirt. With the rub of his nose, physically trying to coerce her mind by its proximity and tenderness. It worked every time. She forgave him _every time_. That's how they worked. They fought bitterly, they forgave kindly and then they loved fiercely. _

_Her hands grazed over his. She was talented in wearing him down with affectionate gestures too. Ariadne pleaded with him one last time, her nails lightly feathering over the tops of his hands, her head turning so that his nose brushed against hers. This would be the very last chance Ariadne could spare from herself, "Please, Arthur, don't walk out the door. Don't make me do this."_

"_You don't have to." The stupid man said, fingering the curly wispies near her face. Why didn't he believe the signs he saw back then? "Just wait for me one more time, ok?"_

_Ariadne's head pulled away from his. She heard their son giggling and making car crash noises. Blissfully unaware about the destruction of his parents' relationship happening feet away. "You know how many times Ender and I have waited for you? And how many times have you stayed for us?" Arthur licked his lips. At least he had the good sense to look shamefaced. Whispering angrily (though the more he looked back on it, the more he recognized immense disappointment, regret) Ariadne pried his hands off and put distance between them, "I gave up everything to be with you and you can't even give up one job to be with us."_

"_It'll be over soon." God, he really didn't get it at the time, did he? Arthur pursued her, linked their hands together. "I'll make all of this up to you. I just can't cancel on such short notice. I _have_ to go. They can't do this without me. I—"_

"_I can't hear you." The Architect bit, "I'm in a parallel universe." She threw that at him all the time when she wanted him to stop talking. Sometimes jokingly, sometimes spitefully. It was just a phrase she liked to use to show Arthur how much she WAS NOT LISTENING._

"_I need you to wait for me."_

"_You need." Her eyebrows furrowed in disgust. Her hands yanked out of his. "It's always about what YOU need."_

_Arthur opened his big, fat, stubborn mouth. The one that claimed to know best, the one that thought it could dictate to everyone else what they should do. Even her. "You need to have faith in me."_

_The Architect's gaze flickered to his suitcase and then to her feet. She knew he made up his mind. She knew he didn't believe her and that he would _never _believe her unless she made good on her word. _One_ of them had to keep their word, after all. "I can't wait any more than you can stay." She was twisting her wedding ring around on her finger. Perhaps Ariadne wanted to memorize the feel of it in the few days left of their marriage. _

"_Look, we'll go on vacation when I get back. A long one, just the three of us. No phones, no computer. Ok?" Arthur's sweet-talk segued into bribes. They always got to this stage. Where he reminded her what they could have, what they could do as a happy family. Gave her things to think about and look forward to when he left so she'd give him another chance in hopes of seeing his promises come to fruition. "Where do you want to go? Hawaii? You can lay out, I'll teach Ender to swim with the dolphins—he'd love that." Ariadne's eyes began to well up. She shook her head. "Or Disney World? That would be a blast. You want to stay in Cinderella's castle?" The woman let him touch her again. Let him hold her shoulders… "Or any castle? They have beautiful ones in Ireland…" Arthur kissed her cheek. "I'll buy you a castle when I get back. Pick one out. It's yours." He knew by her crossed arms and determined glare at the wall across from him that he wasn't making headway. Back then, Arthur dismissed it as her temper raging and getting the better of her. Now, Arthur remembered it as her furious attempt to keep from weeping. _

_Ariadne ignored his bargains entirely, "When you asked me to marry you, you told me I was your dream. That was a lie, wasn't it? We'll never be enough for you."_

_Back then, he said: "You and Ender are everything to me. You know I love you two more than anything in this world…" instead of proving it._

"_You don't live in this world." The Architect swatted him off. Her voice had cracked. "Stop saying what I want to hear. Stop _lying_ to me." Her eyes had gotten muddy. That would be one of the last times he looked into those beautiful eyes with his own in person. "Tell me the truth. Are you ever going to quit? Are you ever going to be able to live a normal life with me? Or do you _need_ dreaming more?" _

"_Baby—" He shouldn't have waited a second to tell her, no, he needed her and Ender more. That it was hard to do but he _did _want to stop. And he would. He could with her help and her support and her love and her forgiveness. But he hesitated. He stalled and tried to comfort her with pet names. _

"_I understand the hold dreamshare has, Arthur. Are you addicted and you just can't let go or do you just absolutely love it and _don't want to_? If you don't want to stop, if you never did, if you _love _dreaming more than you love me, fine. Then I want you to dream. I want you to be happy. But then I. Can't. Stay." _

_Arthur didn't know how to answer. He did love dreamshare…but it was different. And he certainly didn't love it more than her. Back then, he stammered instead of ardently refuting her insecurities. And it cost him._

"_If you're going to leave us, Arthur, then _leave_." With a flourish and avoiding a single look at any part of him, Ariadne picked up and threw his suitcase on their bed, "I'm not going to argue about it anymore," she stormed out of their bedroom and slammed the door closed.  
><em>xxxxxxx

Today, you were far away.  
>And I didn't ask you why.<br>What could I say? I was far away.  
>You just walked away.<em><br>_—The National

xxxxxxxx

Ouch. Just…ouch. That hurts worse than the hammer fist.


	5. Like Wolverine

_SiSi4: _Yes, its nice for him to have some happier memories, huh? It is cruel, but Arthur is self-loathing at the moment so he thinks of the worst things. There are going to be a few more depressing moments…we still haven't had the flashback of when Ariadne actually left. And thanks! _Lauraa-x: _Me too! I think he was as well. He's sort of a man of extremes. Yeah, Ender's just like lalala I love my mommy, my Arthur Dad brings me presents three times a year, happy trains. The team will show up but only in flashbacks until about halfway through the story. _Neverlandspirit: _He asks himself the same thing all the time, Neverland…and ah! I getcha now. Good thing he didn't. And nah, thank you! _Coffeebean: _Sorry. =( Languishly in love Arthur has always been my favorite to write too! Lol. And thanks, I was going for a bipolar narrative effect hahha. _The Pink Archer: _Yup. Her street Tae-Kwon-Do is pretty adorable. She's a crazy kid, I think that's why she's charming. Yeah, no pain, no gain. I honestly hope to make you cry more. Means I'm doing my job right. =) Thanks for reviewing!

I see you, _got penguins, _I see you. And thanks a ton for following the story. Chloe sends air hugs.

**Chapter 5: Like Wolverine**

Arthur woke up propped against his file cabinet. The room a mess, Ariadne's blue scarf in his hand. Eyes still puffy and red. His head pounded with the reverberation of that slammed door. He didn't remember anything after the memory started much less how he ended up on the floor, his tie wrenched loose and a few of his hairs between his fingers. Once his study was semi-cleaned up again, he searched the penthouse to apologize to the little girl that didn't mean to remind him of his faults. He thankfully found her in the hallway outside the apartment by the fire exit after combing the rest of his place. He was glad she hadn't run out of the building or anything dangerous like that. Arthur realized he'd been unfairly harsh on the child. She didn't know that those pieces of memorabilia would put him in such a state or he was sure she wouldn't have intentionally spread them all over. Maybe she even thought he'd forgotten them and was trying to help in her own way. Chloe was huddled up with Penny. His niece could sense him looking and it upset Arthur that she curled inward as a result. "Hey."

The little one glanced up from her stuffed animal and he sighed. Chloe had undoubtedly been crying. To be the cause made him justifiably feel worse and worse like maybe he should find a rock to hide under. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you." Arthur cautiously tip-toed towards her. He knew his actions earlier had most likely instilled a sense of fear and wanted to be as gentle as possible to make up for it. Arthur slid down the wall and sat next to her, "I just haven't seen those things in a while and I get very upset when I look at them."

Chloe nodded with more understanding than Arthur expected of an eight (and a half) year old and squeezed Penny tight against her chest, "I shouldn't have gone in, Uncle Arthur, or gone through anything while you weren't there. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again." The Point Man took some time to study the child and analyze her behavior before speaking again. There was still fear in her eyes. But it wasn't fear _of_ _him_—trust remained. She looked more like she was afraid he was upset with her. She was afraid she'd hurt him and ruined their promising uncle/niece relationship. Arthur shook his head, "I was in the wrong too. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I'll gladly forgive and forget if you will."

Chloe sniffed and nodded. Offering her a rare smile, Arthur slipped three four-by-six inch photos from his jacket pocket. The one on top she recognized immediately from the broken picture frame. "This is my favorite picture of her…your aunt Ariadne…" he said.

Chloe winced at the unattractive tear in the bottom corner, "It's all messed up now…"

"Not too bad. It can be taped," he declared diplomatically putting his thumb where the tear was and demonstrating. He then informed, "It was taken in Beirut."

"Where's that?"

"Lebanon. It's in the Middle East." Chloe still didn't have a good grasp on exactly where on the globe that was, he could tell from her blinking eyes. It didn't really matter. He refocused back on the picture and an involuntary grin spread across his face as he inserted himself into the memory, "We were there for work. I'd just proposed to her the night before and—well, she was always such a happy person but she _glowed_ that day. Anyways, that place behind us there," he pointed at the small part of the building visible in the background and Chloe leaned closer to the picture to read the sign on the door. "Ginette; it was this coffee shop she'd been wanting to go to so I took her there for breakfast—that's what she's looking down at. She's stirring her coffee." Together they followed his finger to the very bottom of the picture in the middle where the red rim of a coffee mug was barely visible. "They had a nice outdoor area in the back with wood tables and big black umbrellas. I don't know what made me take it. A combination of things I guess. One was the way the sun reflected off her engagement ring. I loved seeing it on her." Chloe's eyebrows rose. Interested on a whole new level she spotted the ring and marveled at how prettily it shined even through the picture. "I stared at her hand all morning because I couldn't believe she said yes, that she was walking around with visible promise that she loved me enough to be with me forever. And I loved the look of happiness on her face. She couldn't wipe the smile off—not that whole week—I loved being the cause of her happiness." Chloe couldn't help but smile too, thinking of the beautiful lady being so happy. Thinking of Uncle Arthur being that happy. The two of them (Arthur and Ari) together. "I wanted to see Ariadne that happy with me for the rest of my life so I snapped a picture and immortalized the moment. She heard the camera click. After this picture she got on to me and told me to delete it but…" He started laughing. Or maybe he was choking up…noted Chloe when she decided to move her eyes from the picture to him. He was half smiling, half frowning. Uncle Arthur was a strange man. He barely showed emotions on his face and when he did they were all mixed up. Maybe it was because he didn't use them enough to keep in practice.

Ultimately, Arthur put the picture of his wife under another and changed subject, "And this is my favorite picture of my little boy."

Yeah, that was the one she mentioned earlier when he was yelling at her. "Ender."

"Yes, Ender. Your cousin." Chloe tilted her head at the sight of little boy and smiled funnily at him. "We lived in Paris and they have a holiday there called Bastille Day with a bunch of festivals. I was miraculously home at the time. Ariadne and I took him out together and he got his face painted like a tiger." Laughed the man. And I mean, _really _laughed that time. It _was _a silly photo. Ender was standing on a park bench, fingers bent like claws, growling at the camera. A teddy bear sitting at his feet. Chloe smiled at the rumble of the Point's and hoped one day she'd be able to make Uncle Arthur laugh like that. Look at her like she was that important too. "He's a mess. He'll be six or seven this year. I don't have many of him, unfortunately. Ari took most of them with her when she—"

Arthur shook his head and flipped to the next picture. This one Chloe had not unearthed in the study. "And this is my favorite of the three of us. We were invited to a friend's house for dinner and he took the picture. Ender just turned two. He looks so cheery and excited even relaxed in my arms because it was before I started running off and leaving them for work so often." His thick brows knitted, "He still knew me…We look like a happy family."

He rotated the photo to the back and found one more picture. Arthur had looked at it in the study but didn't remember choosing to bring it to show the little girl. He thought he shoved it face down into one of the drawers. It was a picture of the night he proposed. They were outside and dots of light were everywhere in their background. Of course one of Arthur's arms were outstretched because he was taking the picture. Arthur was smiling, eyes closed, forehead pressed into her temple and Ariadne had a look of exaggerated yet happy surprise. Her mouth formed a perfect 0 which was halfway covered by the hand with her ring. Uncle Arthur was too fixated to notice Chloe lean her face practically on top of the picture to study it. She thought he was too fixated to hear her comment, "You can tell you loved her a lot. You look just as happy as she does, if not more."

"I was."

He didn't expect Chloe to ask him a question at all much less a poignant one (never underestimate that child): "Do you still love her?"

"Of course. I always will. I don't think a day goes by that I don't go to pieces over her." His knees bent up near his chest and his hands clasped and rested on top of them. Chloe had never seen him pick at his fingernails before. Sure, she'd only been living there a week but the Point Man wasn't the sort you'd expect to have nervous habits. He looked incredibly un-Uncle Arthur-like in his pajamas, leaning against the wall with little care over his posture, twiddling his thumbs. If it weren't for the frown he'd be unrecognizable. Chloe tilted her head because his answer didn't make sense, "If you still love her so much, why aren't you still together? What happened?"

"I messed up." His hands returned to his sides and his legs stretched back out along the carpeted flooring. "I assumed that she'd always be there because time after time she proved how much she loved me by waiting. When it was my turn to prove how much I loved her by staying I—well, I didn't realize it. I left. And—and well, now, I've been cut off from them like I've been cut off from the rest of the Talesco's—my parents, you and your parents."

Chloe clasped her hands on top of Penny and looked down. This seemed like a very sad moment and she felt the need to apologize for it. After all, she was part of the Talesco family. She lived with some of the people that cut him off. "I'm sorry."

Arthur looked at the items between them for a long minute and then handed them to her, "Here, why don't you keep these?"

Chloe inhaled in shock, "Your favorites?"

Following a hard swallow and one last look at them, he nodded, "Yes, I want you to have them. Maybe you've never met them but they're part of your family too. It'll help you not to feel so alone when you go back home." More reluctantly, the man pulled a square of blue fabric from his breast pocket. It was too close to his heart to do him any good, maybe he'd be happier seeing it in use. "You should have Auntie Ari's scarf too."

"Really?" she breathed and looked at it like she had the engagement ring in the picture.

"Really." Arthur reaffirmed more to himself than to the kid. "It needs to be worn and not wrinkled in a drawer." She took it and held it by the two top corners: examining the pattern, getting used to the idea that it was hers. While she did, the man said, "You open my eyes to a lot of new things every day. Make me think about what happened in a new light. It's not bad having you here…" he tensed up in a minute way but added, "And I want you to know that I'm here too. I know you must miss your parents."

"You have no idea…" the little girl said wistfully, staring at the wall across from them, twirling the scarf around her fingers aimlessly. He really, really, didn't.

The Point Man put his arm around the tiny figure's shoulders for the first time. Strangely, he felt as comforted by the gesture as she did, "Anytime you feel alone remember that I feel alone too. Come get me and we can feel alone together, capiche?"

"Capoche."

**xxxxxxxx**

_Ariadne heard the automated click of the phone and glanced up. She caught Arthur red handed, the phone lifted and pointed towards her, "Arthur! Stop taking pictures of me." The glare was completely faked as she reached over the table to grab at the device (feebly), "And delete it."_

"_Why?" he snatched it back and viewed the screen, choosing to save it against her wishes, "I want to remember this moment."_

_Ariadne gave him a look and picked at him, "You've wanted to remember every moment since I said yes."_

"_And that's a bad thing?" questioned the Point. The phone went safely into his jacket pocket so she couldn't try anything and then he took a gratuitous sip of coffee. "I love seeing you so happy, especially because of me. It's not a crime."_

_The Architect feigned offense, "You egomaniac. How do you know I'm happy because of _you_?" Her lips were pursed in the 'I'm trying so hard not to grin at you because you're right' way. "I could be happy because I really love this coffee and it's a beautiful day out." Finally, she was able to completely rid her face of joy and look semi-normative (but her eyes still sparkled). _

"_Could be…" Arthur tilted his head diplomatically then smirked, "but it's probably because we're getting married."_

_He looked down at his coffee but watched the corners of her mouth twitch up through his peripherals. Her sardonic tone challenged, "How much do you want to bet?"_

"_A kiss?" His gaze floated up to hers along with one of his eyebrows. Cheekily, he snaked his hand across the table and picked her left one up so he could kiss her ring finger flirtingly, "From my beautiful bride-to-be?"_

_Ariadne couldn't help it. It happened before she even thought about their game. She heard the words: bride to be and her face lit up; her grin spread so wide her eyes crinkled like Arthur's always did. Once it was there, she couldn't wipe it off for nothing so she digressed, "Fine, you win." Arthur lightly tugged on her hand, encouraging her to get up and come closer. Huffing because she hated to lose, Ariadne bent down and bestowed a peck on his cheek. _

_The Point made a point of looking disappointed, "Your fiancé deserves more than that, I think." He pulled her sideways into his lap and kissed her lips tenderly. Once, twice, three times. He could feel the light scratch from her engagement on his cheek and it made him smile into her. Ariadne pulled away, "Ew, we got engaged and suddenly we're turning into one of _those_ couples."_

"_I'm sorry," his palm ran along her calf which was propped over the arm of his chair, "all I heard was 'we got engaged'."_

_Ariadne made a small grimace of mock-disgust, "We're getting disgustingly sappy, you know that?"_

_Arthur looked to both sides like he was thinking then resolutely stated, "I don't mind."_

"_Me either."_

xxxxxxx

"I'll trade ya a fourth of my grilled cheese for a fourth of your quesadilla…" Linny smiled hopefully and held out part of her sandwich. When Chloe pursed her lips like she was thinking of turning the offer down, Linny zealously added , "It's got ham in it too." She did still have three more triangles…Chloe shrugged. "Ok." And the girls traded. Chloe couldn't help but smile proudly when Linny eagerly bit into it and hummed, "Your Uncle Arthur makes the best lunches."

Chloe popped a couple grapes in her mouth and nodded, "He does." That was probably because there was nothing the man couldn't do. Chloe was positive Uncle Arthur was like a spy but also a five star chef and a genius with a doctorate, probably in the book of Guinness World Records and maybe the Vice President (secretly).

Speaking of, the door to the lobby of the studio opened to reveal Arthur. It was Monday so it wasn't a half day and he never visited during the day. The Point lifted his sunglasses from his eyes to his head and addressed Ms. Baublit who was (swooning) watching the ballerinas from the front desk as she ate, "I'd like to take Chloe for the remainder of the lunch break."

"Of course," she stood and slid a clipboard to the front of the desk, "Just sign her out please."

Chloe's friend Norah whispered (loudly. Children always think they're quiet when they're absolutely not), "Where are you going? You _have_ lunch." Chloe shrugged again, quickly packing up her stuff, putting it in her cubby and sliding on her shoes. Uncle Arthur finished signing and _smiled _warmly at her, "Ready, Tiny Talesco?" She followed him out to the car. "You've eaten some of your lunch right?" asked the man as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Yes."

"Good." He wanted to make sure she had some proper nutrition before taking her for dessert. "I was running some errands nearby and thought: why not stop in? I saw a bakery a couple blocks down you'd like. Thought we could have a cupcake date."

It was called: _Baby Cakes Bakery._ So naturally it was the cutest place Chloe ever laid eyes on. It didn't look like it belonged on the streets of New York squished between a Laundromat and lawyer's office but rather somewhere quaint. A small town somewhere in the South or maybe even somewhere in England. The face of the shoppe itself was painted light pink and it had big round awnings with scalloped edges and pink and white stripes. The inside was a little girl's dream. Everything was a pristine bright white; the walls, the counters, the dainty iron tables and chairs, the miniature chandelier light fixtures. The colors came in the form of accents, all pastels. For instance, each set of table and chairs had their own colored upholstery and small vase of roses. Baby yellows, baby blues, minty greens, light pinks and purples. There was a white book case on the right of the store filled with vintage children's classics all in their original binding and all within the pastel color scheme. Winnie the Pooh, Cinderella, Peter Pan and Wendy, all of them. Of course the other pop of color was the glass display of cupcakes at the counter and the specials handwritten in light colored chalks on the blackboard (inside a white swirly frame that looked like it came straight out of Marie Antoinette's room). Arthur let Chloe take it all in before guiding her to the counter to take advantage of the break in crowd. They had a specific interval of time after all.

What was so special about _BabyCakes Bakery _was their cupcake bar where patrons could essentially build their own cupcake. Both of them built one to take home for later before picking a ready-made one from the display to eat there. They stood side by side (the buffet table of icing and toppings hit at Chloe's shoulders and just above Arthur's hips. She had to stand on her tippy toes to reach and he had to fold in half to duck under the glass top.), Arthur held a plain vanilla cake and Chloe held a chocolate. Arthur kept it simple for his, having already planned what to get by the time they walked up to the table. He was always more of a fruit man than a sweets one, so he iced it with strawberry frosting and topped it with basic sprinkles and two fresh strawberries. Chloe's got complicated. She filled it with peanut butter frosting and iced it with fudge frosting (it still looked messily done even with help from Uncle) topped it with m&ms, crushed Oreos, drizzled it with marshmallow syrup and put a candy heart on top. Arthur needed to make her eat it right after dinner so all that sugar would be out of her system by at least ten…the next to-go boxes to put them in were half the reason Chloe was maniacally excited. They looked like tiny ovens and opened from the front panel like you were opening the oven door. A cute cardstock oven mitt hung from the 'handle' so they could write their names on their creations. (Arthur could tell them apart easily. His oven was blue, hers was pink. His cupcake looked professionally done, her cupcake looked—well, she was eight and a half. But he humored her and let her write both their names.)

The little girl hummed and did a little jig while Arthur paid. He was used to it now, so it didn't distract him or bother him or make him beg her to stand still like it used to. Arthur found he liked it when she danced about and sang through the house or down the street. It meant the little girl was happy…and well, at least he could make _someone _happy. To eat at the bakery, Arthur picked the Lemony Crème and Chloe picked…Chloe picked what she closed her eyes and pointed to which ended up being the Pink Lady ( red velvet mixed to look pink, topped with white chocolate frosting and shavings of pink chocolate. Good choice). Seeing as the occasion was a little special, Arthur got egg nog for his beverage and let Chloe get strawberry milk. Both were put in old fashioned soda-fountain glasses and topped with whipped cream. They picked a spot closest to the window, Arthur pulled her chair out, pushed her closer, then settled in on the other side as Chloe moved the flowers from the center so she could see him. Long after Arthur peeled the foil off his and took a bite, the girl was still staring at her pastry.

"Are you going to eat?" he asked, passing a napkin her way.

"Yes," she nodded affirmatively, "But it's too pretty. I'm trying to commit it to memory first." Chloe blinked emphatically like she was taking pictures with her mind. The little nutcase…

Arthur checked his watch for the time then fished his cell phone out of his pocket, "I tell you what. I'll take a picture with my phone and print it for you to remember."

"Ok!" She readily agreed. She picked the cupcake up by her face and posed with it, smiling. He took two for good measure in case she blinked in one and checked them. "Good." Arthur went to pocket the device when her frosting covered hand reached out to stop him, "Wait. I want a picture of you here too."

Arthur shook his head sternly. "I don't take pictures."

This was the very first time his niece manipulated him with the puppy dog eyes. And it _worked. _They were big and round and sparkly. She batted her eyes and pouted her lower lip, "Pretty pleeeeease? No one else will see it but me…"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Wipe your hands off, first. Don't make the screen sticky. If I have to scrape crusted icing off my phone I won't be very happy."

Chloe clapped, "Yay!" and hastily wiped her hands on her napkin and took the phone.

The Point Man held up the cupcake halfheartedly and waited. Instead of taking the picture, Chloe frowned, "You're not dressed. Where's your smile?" He smirked at her genuine upset over the absence of his smile and that's when she snapped it.

Before Chloe could comment on how he looked in the photo (he knew it was coming), he took his cell back and changed the subject, "Don't you have auditions sometime this week?"

Chloe nodded, swiping her finger through the icing and sticking said finger in her mouth. (That had to be so unsanitary. He should've made her wash her hands with the ebola going around and what not). "They're on Friday."

"Which ballet is it?" Arthur wiped his mouth with the napkin and switched the hand he was holding the cake in. He'd read in the camp's information pamphlet but he didn't retain anything but class times and location. He filed it somewhere where he could make reference to it but the recent disarray of his study made it hard to remember exactly where he placed it.

"Sleeping Beauty. Only four kids are getting picked but Noah's gonna get two parts no matter what."

His eyebrows knitted, "That's not fair. Why's that?" He suspected politics.

"One part is the boy bluebird and one is Young Prince Phillip. And he's the only boy."

Oh. But who said Chloe couldn't be Young Prince Phillip if she wanted to? A girl was the first to play Peter Pan… "What parts are you trying out for?" With one last bite, the man's cupcake was gone. Chloe was nibbling and still had three quarters of hers left (she'd have to finish it in the car at this rate. Good thing he had wipes in the console.)

She licked the last of her icing off the top and sipped on some milk before replying, "Well, there's the peasant girl that brings Baby Aurora a gift in the beginning. And then the girl bluebird…I want to be _her." _Chloe smiled dreamily out the window, fire in her eyes, "She gets a solo, a duet with the boy bird and she gets to dance with the Princess. I could be on stage with a _real _Ballerina…"

"That sounds like a very special role." Arthur nodded, "I'm sure it requires a lot of work." Her vocabulary wasn't as vast as his but talking to her wasn't as difficult as he initially thought on her arrival. Talking to her was like talking to a miniature adult.

Chloe took an eager bite of her cake, "I would work _so hard._"

Arthur smirked (more to himself than her), adjusting his jacket, "If you're anything like your Uncle Arthur than I'm sure you'll work until it's perfected."

"Uh huh. It's my dream…" With two hands, Chloe brought her glass up and took two big gulps. To his dismay, she wiped her mouth with her jacket sleeve alternative to the napkin. Maybe he could find some colored clothing of his and throw a load in the washer that afternoon. "What was your dream?"

"I wanted to be invincible."

No that was his dream _before_ the Architect.

_He wanted it to be perfect. Of course he did, he was Arthur, he always wanted things to be perfect. And anyone who's ever proposed has wanted the moment to be special. So all of those factors combined, made planning for a flawless execution a priority. Ariadne enjoyed fancy food and wine from five star restaurants but if given a choice between one of those and an intimately set hole in the wall, she'd choose the latter. It was for that very reason Arthur found a locally owned, lesser known gem to take her to that night. The intimate setting, low lighting and cozy feel made for a very romantic surrounding and he could tell she was enchanted by the place he'd found by the way she analyzed the architecture and décor between courses. After that, he took her to one of the parks by their hotel and spread out a blanket for them. Ariadne was fond of watching stars and pointing out constellations; she was constantly dragging him to rooftops to count with her—though, most times she fell asleep and left him to do all the math. He bought them wine and chocolate covered strawberries and pretzels to munch on. Dark and white chocolate to be exact. Ariadne was a chocolate fiend. Loved all things chocolate but she tired of milk chocolate faster because it was comparatively blander than the other two. (That's why he tended to purchase customizable assortments of chocolates on Valentine's Day so he could adjust the ratio to her liking. Who cares if she called him crazy for it, she was able to eat the entire box in one sitting). _

_Things so far went exactly according to plan in terms of schedule and reservations. They had no car trouble, the restaurant didn't run out of anything she wanted…She loved everything he put together but something was off. Something had been off all week. Ariadne was one to wear her heart on her sleeve and jump into things headlong but lately she'd been keeping herself in check around him. Even as she laid with her head on his chest and her arm slung over his stomach, he could feel a distance. Yet, it was the moment of truth. The night was winding down and the velvet box was burning a hole in his pocket. Ariadne sat up and downed the rest of her glass of wine as Arthur followed, mentally preparing for his speech, rubbing his fingers along edge of the box. What were the first words again? He re-read the final draft off of his laptop before they left for the evening. It was: 'Ariadne, there's nothing quite like you…' and what—what was next?_

"_I think I'd like to go back, now," and that simply, she drove a wrecking ball into his plans. The Architect put the lid back on the strawberries and packed it and her empty wine glass carefully back into the basket. She was upset. Arthur could tell from her pace. She didn't wait for him to get up, she rolled up her side of the blanket and headed across the park gardens towards the car. Arthur gawped, not sure how to proceed with this dent in the plan. He quickly poured out his wine on the grass, packed the glass and rolled his side up to throw the whole thing on his shoulder and head after her. As his watch flashed (it would beep but he put it on silent signal) to alert him it was ten o' clock, Arthur despondently looked back at the gardens where they were sitting and watched the garden light up as it did at that time every night. He was supposed to be on one knee…_

_Ariadne was leaning against the car—her arms halfheartedly holding her own waist—when Arthur caught up to her. She looked to be in deep thought, mumbling to herself. She looked like Arthur had all week: rehearsing in hushed tones in the car after he claimed he needed to pick up something by himself, in front of the mirror in their hotel bathroom with the shower running so she couldn't hear, at night on the balcony as she was asleep. When he was finally standing next to her he placed the basket and blanket on the curb. He wasn't quite ready to unlock the car. He wanted to talk. When she realized he was there she heaved a sigh, looking disappointed. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and placed his hands on either side of her, using the car to lean closer and yet keep himself off her. The entire time she kept her head angled down and away. Ariadne looked pained. Not knowing the cause of that, made him feel helpless. All he could think to do was to remind her, "I love you very much, you know that?"_

_Ariadne looked at him guiltily, sadly, "I love you too."_

_That put him a tad at ease. At ease enough to run one hand down her shoulder, "Then tell me what's been wrong all week. I feel like you've been upset with me."_

"_Not necessarily," her head shook, "I'm not upset with you. I've just been doing some heavy thinking." Then Ariadne picked at her nails. Something she did when she was anxious, "Preparing."_

"_For?"_

"_Our—" stuttered the woman, "my future." Arthur began to say 'me too' but she dove right into explaining herself, "I've been thinking about where I want to be in five years and…and I don't think running around in circles in someone else's mind is it. I mean I love it—the thrill, the rush, the adventure and creation— and I love you…so much. But I've seen the toll it takes and I don't want that for myself. I want to create a few things that'll last when I wake up in the morning. I don't want all my memories to be things that have happened in my head. I think I want to try to be strong enough to leave this. I think I want a normal life."_

_Arthur nodded intently. He made sure to show interest, respect, "I can understand that."_

_He thought she was merely fixing to tell him this was her last job in dreamshare or that she wanted to go back to school or apply for a few of the firms Miles suggested or something of that sort so when she took one of his hands in two of hers and took a deep shaky breath he didn't think anything of it— "I think you and I are going separate ways,"— until that sentence. Until he comprehended that she was, in essence, breaking up with him. His heart dropped to his feet and his stomach clenched. There was a wild adrenaline rush, a desperation shooting through him. All week Arthur was planning to ask her to spend the rest of their lives together and she was planning to end their relationship. Whatever her reasoning was had to be based on misunderstanding—she just told him she loved him a breath before. "We want different things in life. And to make our future a little easier, I…" Her voice fell to a whisper as her sorrow took over, "I think we need to stop seeing ea—"_

_Arthur instinctively cut her off, "Marry me."_

_Blinking, she blanched and then asked incredulously, "You're joking right?"_

"_No." his hands weaved into hers, "No, I'm not."_

_Ariadne laughed. Partly out of nervousness and partly out of disbelief. Arthur was never spontaneous. "We can't get married."_

"_Yes we can." Insisted the Point Man, "We use fake names in the circuit and you want to quit soon anyway. It'll be safe. We can make this work. I don't want this to end; I _can't_ let this end, Ariadne. I want you forever." _

_The woman felt like he was grasping at straws and wanted to relieve him, "Arthur, I don't _want_ to break up with you but I don't think jumping into marriage is the right solution either. Neither of us should be made to compromise. You think you want to marry me this second because it's difficult to let go but—" she combed back the hairs by his ear, "I mean, you'll eventually be miserable with me." _

"_No." Arthur's hand shot to hers and held it tight in a death grip. Refusing to let her slip through his fingers so easy. "Like you said, we build all sorts of dreams together but you want to build a real life. I want to build a real life _with you_." _

"_I eventually want stability. Children. You—"_

_Arthur cupped her chin, "So do I. I want to be the father of your children. _Our _children. And we'll have them. Lots of babies that look just like both of us. As many as you want, Ari. And when we do, I'll quit too. I'll give you a white picket fence and neighbors to invite over for dinner and a lawn I'll have to mow every Saturday morning. I'll give you all the normalcy you want."_

_There was hope there but she remained logical, "I can't ask you to do that. I'm not asking, Arthur, this isn't an ultimatum. I don't—"_

"_I know. I know you wouldn't ask. But I want you. I want everything you want. I'll do it."_

_Gaping, Ariadne doubtfully asked, "You'll quit _dreaming?_" She couldn't picture him doing it. It felt like a law against the universe for Arthur to settle down in reality. Grow some roots._

"_I'll quit dreamshare, yes. But not dreaming, because _you're_ my dream. A family with you is my dream. If you love me, then that's all the beautiful dreaming and adventure I need." That was where Arthur found himself getting down on one knee. The speech he prepared (while all of it very heartfelt) was thrown out the window in favor of the words running through his mind at that moment, "To be with _you _for the rest of my life is all I truly want in this world and every other one I've ever visited. I've been thinking seriously about our future too— for months actually. I can't imagine one without you in it; I don't think I could survive a future without you." He fished in his pocket uncharacteristically nervous and _timid_ if you could believe it. The idea that she might say no and decide to go through with ending things then and there was enough have him on edge. After what seemed a while but was only seconds, he revealed the velvet box he'd been hiding away for months and opened it in askance, "Marry me, please?" _

_Ariadne was baffled. Utterly and completely caught off guard. Arthur—the Point Man, Arthur—was kneeling in front of her holding a box. A box with a ring. An engagement ring. Then it hit her: _Arthur never did anything spontaneously. _He already had the ring in his possession. She looked at the ground beside her where the picnic basket sat, remembered the special wine and desserts inside, then she glanced several feet behind him where they had been laying and sure enough the gardens were lit up. These weren't empty promises to keep them from separating. She wasn't pushing him into the idea like she was afraid she was. He'd been thinking about this, he'd planned this. He'd already wanted to marry her. "Arthur…I'm so sorry," she sighed regretfully, her face covered by her hands._

_His throat went dry from her tone and he literally thought he might shatter there on the ground. _

"_I totally ruined your proposal, didn't I?" her hands dropped. Her face twisted into a sheepish grimace. She should've talked to him first. Arthur was a planner. He wouldn't have minded having a discussion about their future. They'd had one before…when they reached the six month mark and decided they wanted to move in together. Decided that they wanted more than a fling, that they wanted each other in all seriousness. Ariadne just knew how much Arthur absolutely loved dreamshare (she could empathize). But she figured out that it wasn't what she wanted with her life anymore and she didn't want to drag him out to reality with her. She was going to sacrifice their relationship so he could continue doing what he loved. _

_Arthur swallowed and tried to make light despite his anxious pounding heart, "I'll overlook my botched plan if you say yes."_

"_I guess it _is_ a lot better than what I was proposing." Ariadne smirked down at him._

"_Is that a—"_

_The Architect grinned giddily, "It's a yes, Point Man," then chuckled at him and grabbed his sleeve to pull him up. "It's a resounding yes." Relieved and elated, Arthur smiled his crinkly eyed, dimple smile and dove to pick her up in a hug as she continued, "An unquestionable, absolute yes." Then after he put her down and stole a sweet, blissful kiss, she laughed, "A million yesses." _

_Arthur chuckled, "Could we walk back to the lights so I can get a picture? I promised your parents I would."_

"_My parents?" she gaped while he weaved their hands and led her back to the gardens, "My parents know?"_

_He answered over his shoulder, "I asked them both for their permission and blessing last time they visited Paris."_

_That was months ago; Arthur really had put heavy thought into it. She bit her lip. Her face all aglow as Arthur slipped the ring onto her finger. Ariadne held it closer to her face to study, in awe that she was truly wearing an engagement ring. "Do you like it?" Arthur readily asked. "I know the diamonds are a bit small—I'll get you larger ones for your wedding band if you wish—but I'd been tediously shopping around and I spotted this on a vintage site. It just looked so _you _that I thought—"_

_The Architect took his face in her hands. He could feel the ring against his skin and was ready to burst with joy. She beamed; a hazy, dreamy sort of look in her eyes, "It's perfect."_

"You're_ perfect," he corrected and held the phone in front of them, humming into her temple. Ariadne made a face of surprise and made sure to use the hand with the ring to cover her mouth._

"Invincible…" Chloe wondered aloud, mouth full of icing. That meant someone couldn't die right? Nothing could hurt them? She jokingly growled and made claws with her index, middle and ring finger of both her hands, "Like Wolverine?"

"I…" That was what he wanted for so long, yes. Not to be Wolverine per se but to be indestructible. That may be impossible in a physical sense but not in a figurative one. As a Point Man who could disappear on whim, Arthur was matchless. He could cloak his very existence if he wanted and he could find or destroy anyone he pleased. They couldn't touch him or his career. He loved being a mystery. A legend, an enigma. "I suppose so. Yes."

Chloe rose her eyebrows, "That's silly. You didn't want to be anything _real_?" That was a sore subject. Arthur winced, a rehash of his broken promise to Ariadne wasn't his first choice of things to dwell on. Chloe shrugged, "I mean I love the Black Widow but the chances of me becoming a Russian spy and joining The Avengers is pre-tty far reaching." Picking some crumbs from her shirt she added, "I could pull off Cat Woman when I grow up but I was taught never to steal."

Arthur thought it ironic and slightly hypocritical for him to reply, "That would be right. Stealing is bad."

"Robin Hood stole," she said, mouth full, "He took from the rich and gave to the poor." Funny that was the analogy Arthur used when he first started dreamshare. They stole secrets from the rich to help the less rich get ahead. Yeah, it was shoddy and uncompleted but the general idea coincided. He wanted to think of himself as a heroic thief. "Good intentions," he sipped his egg nog and then pointed at her sternly, "but still wrong."

After washing down some more of her cupcake and swaying in her seat while aimlessly watching outside the window. She curiously squinted at him, "Uncle Arthur what _do_ you do?"

He'd been through enough false backstories and on the spot inquiries to be dismantled by the question coming from a kid. Then again those were grown people. This was a child and lying to a child felt inexplicably wrong. Especially a child related to him with no ulterior motive…but—tip toeing around the big details would only protect her. He'd been truthful (too truthful) in everything else. He shouldn't have been laying some of his grief on Chloe as equally (or not so equally) as she was laying her grief on him so overwhelming her with all that was dreamshare and its dangers was something he was not going to do. (Never mind the inevitable and unending onslaught of questions that would come with it). Nonchalant, he answered, "I'm a researcher and operations consultant." It was true enough.

"Is it dangerous? Mimi and Papa say it's dangerous." Why did the little girl look excited by that? Like she hoped it was?

Arthur out and out lied, "It's a competitive atmosphere so some of my clients can be mean and greedy but no, it's not that dangerous." The researching and consulting part of it wasn't anyway.

Chloe slumped a bit, "Man…so you're not a secret agent like in Spy Kids or anything? Like Carmen and Juni's Uncle Felix with the fake mustache who wasn't really their uncle? Or their Uncle Machete who _was _really their uncle?"

"No, I'm not a member of any intelligence agency. Not even secretly."

First she pouted, "Aw…I was hoping for jetpack," then she smiled slyly, "but then again…you couldn't tell me if you were, could you?"

While sipping his eggnog, he shrugged playfully, knowing her imagination would take that and run wild. Arthur checked his watch; they needed to get back on the road. He let her take one more bite and then told her she'd have to finish it on the way. She couldn't be late if she wanted to get as much practice for the audition as possible. While they walked along the pavement to the car (Chloe had to power walk to remotely keep by Arthur's side), he asked, "If you don't mind me asking, is there a specific reason you want to be the Bluebird so bad besides—?"

After licking icing off her lips, she replied, "Besides doing a solo for a real ballerina? Because my nickname is Chlobird." The girl spotted a look of confusion pass over Arthur's face and offered an explanation, "Apparently when I was a baby—like until I was two or something—I'd wake up real early in the morning every morning and cry a lot."

Arthur was sure all babies did that (Ender sure did) however he didn't comment. He let her continue, "The sound of birds chirping was the only thing that calmed me down so whoever got up with me would take me and sit outside until I fell back asleep. They said I learned to whistle before I learned to talk. And I always ask to feed the birds when we're at the pier or the beach or park or something." Arthur pursed his lips and tilted his head as he paced around and opened his car door; that was certainly interesting.

The little girl had an excellent rest of the day at ballet. They learned their groups for auditions; the next day they would learn their 'across the floor' and Wednesday they would learn a piece of the main variation. That way they'd have all day Thursday to rehearse all their combinations before auditions on Friday. Chloe hopped into the cab next to Arthur excitedly holding the packet containing audition information like call times, character description, required abilities for different roles, audition etiquette, and a bunch of really pretty pictures of dancers from the show they did the year prior.

She read through it avidly (some of it aloud to Arthur) on the ride to the penthouse and left it on the table by the bowl of keys so Uncle Arthur could look through it and scan for anything he needed to be aware of. Chloe dragged her suitcase out of the hallway closet and pre-maturely changed into her pajamas as Arthur clanked around the kitchen. The Disney Channel was shamefully running the same rerun of Girl Meets World _again. _There was nothing exciting on Nickelodeon either and no movies playing on tv. Huffing, she put it on Uncle Arthur's favorite—The History Channel. Part two of The Plight of Egyptian Architecture was on…he had part one recorded so she went ahead and recorded this one for him too.

xxxxxxx

The very next day Arthur was late to pick her up from class. You can imagine how jarring that was for a little girl who was hit with the worst news ever the last time someone was late to pick her up. And Uncle Arthur was _never _late. So even though it was only six minutes past, Chloe's fidgeting got worse and worse with every friend who walked out the door with their guardian. She plucked her phone from her bag and was fixing to press send on his number when he walked into the studio, coolly pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. Chloe hopped and ran to hug his waist—but stopped herself, cautious of his personal space. She smiled up at him, relieved, "You're always early. I thought something happened."

"No, I'm sorry. I got sidetracked finishing up a project of mine." In a turn of events, Arthur fondly patted the top of her head, "Ready to go?"

It was one of the hotter days in New York so they took a taxi (Arthur didn't feel like fighting the traffic) back to their building. While Arthur normally preferred silent car rides with the occasional soft rock radio tune in the background, he was beginning to grow accustomed and look forward to rides filled with his niece's enthusiastic chatter about her day. What Linny tried to trade her for lunch, how the atrocious Maia got in trouble for talking, how Emma got a rip in her tights and they cleverly used nail polish to keep it from getting bigger. When they got back, she was starving. Some days they did more across the floor, petite allegros, and jumps than others and on those days Chloe came back hungry for a snack and ready for a nap. That day Uncle Arthur sliced up her requested golden delicious apple and she ate it with peanut butter while he went off into his study to work on something. When he came out she was on her last couple slices, watching the Disney Channel. She looked immensely comfortable: slouched down to where she was almost lying down, her plate resting on her stomach, her ballet skirt uneven and the tiny feet in her light pink tights propped up on the coffee table. He almost hated to disturb her. "Hey Chloe, come here. I want you to see something." Thinking nothing of it, she put the plate aside and trudged over. Then he instructed, "Put your hands over your eyes."

"Why?" her head tilted.

"Cause I've got a bit of a surprise for you, kid." Surprises? She loved surprises! She slapped her palms over her eyes and let him guide her. She heard: "You know how I told you never to go into the study?"

"Yeah…" said the child guiltily. Her face scrunched though it couldn't be seen for her hands.

Arthur chuckled and the girl heard the doorknob turn, "Well you're going to be spending a lot of time in it now because I—" he pulled her hands away from her face from behind, "Turned it into a bedroom for you."

xxxxxx  
><em>I like the way I walk.<br>I like to hear myself talk.  
>I like the sound, the beat of my own drum.<br>One is so much better when it's two.  
>I'd rather share with you.<br>—_Lennon and Maisy

I'm thinking this might make up for the yelling? She's breaking him down. It's happening.

Also link to a Cupcake Date collage and a picture of her beloved stuffed elephant Penny is linked on my profile.


	6. The Baker and Diplomat

_SiSi4: _I'm glad that you're glad haha. He is a Point Man but remember his family (all Talescos. Like blood related and marriage related) have governmental help (through Arthur's retired general father) in keeping Arthur from finding a trace. That's why Arthur hasn't reunited with Ari and Ender already. I promise you he would've been on their doorstep almost instantaneously if any scrap of them were where he could hack and find it. When Ari left we're supposing she went to Arthur's father for help in keeping them hidden from him. So yes, he's a point man, but with no evidence or research for him to analyze and pick apart, he's at a standstill. Chloe's just giving him that second wind/extra push to go out there and try again anyway because I feel like he'd almost given up and resigned himself to misery without Ari and Ender. The proposal…sigh. Ariadne practically predicted the inevitable. It actually would've saved them a lot of heartache if they broke up like she was thinking because she was afraid of happening, happened anyway. Yes, hopefully Ariadne will. Hopefully she won't be like: what the heck. _Neverlandspirit: _Haha I love them too. Thanks for another sweet review! _Coffeebean: _It would be awesome…I wouldn't completely rule that out but I also wouldn't count on it. We'll see though, eh? _Lauraa-x: _Mmm, at this point it means…Arthur's rich and really sweet to people he takes a liking to. I'm not saying that may not change but that's not in his mind at this point. This point. I would've married Arthur on the spot too. Lol. Exactly, Ari was going to break up with him because she could see what actually happened to them, happening and she wanted to prevent it. I wanted to show people that Ariadne wasn't being unreasonable fighting with Arthur and that she wasn't being one of those wives who expect the man to retire and spend every waking moment at home or whatever. Arthur promised her normalcy. That's why they didn't break-up… She was going to go her own way and have the normal life she wanted and let him dream as much as he wanted to. But he made her believe he wanted the same things. So for him to do a 180 and break the promise that kept them together…Ariadne was justified in being so heartbroken and upset because she could've saved them all of that. _The Pink Archer: _A castle…what a bribe, right? Yeah the scarf was a true torch-passing moment. So it was sweet for that but sad because that's one of Arthur's only ties back to Ari. And yeah…IF they get back together…mwuahahaha.

**Chapter 6: The Baker **_**and **_**the Diplomat.**

Chloe gasped, "WOAH." Her eyes grew to the size of grapefruits and lit up like the sky on the fourth of July. Unable to contain her elation and excitement she ran to the middle of the room and spun around trying to take it all in. It was beautiful…and what's more, it was all hers.

The walls were still white save for the accent wall (the one you first saw when you stepped in) where her bed sat. The accent wall was painted in light pink and white vertical stripes across. On the far left of the wall, in the corner, was a small white nightstand with a white iron fancy (but still childish) looking lamp. Next to that was her bed, a white, wooden, canopy bed. Gauzy white curtains hung from the posts at the headboard and footboard but tied back by light pink bows. Her pillows were big fluffy and white; her comforter a darker shade then all the light pinks—like deep rose pink mixed with a smidge of maroon. Under the bed there was a large, square rug made of big hearts. Light pink, dark pink and red. Immediately next to the bed were three connecting pieces of furniture the same height, build and color as her nightstand but with a thick and plushy upholstered cushion that matched the color of her bedspread atop each. Smaller throw pillows lined the walls along the seats, a mix of some of that same darker pink and some light grey. The only stand out was her souvenir m&m world pillow. They formed a mini couch. A place to sit and read or sit her stuffed animals or something. At the moment, Uncle Arthur had Penny the elephant and Emmett the m&m monkey lounging in the seating area facing each other as if they were having a conversation. Next to the seating area but turned to be lined up against the side wall was a desk and accompanying chair from the same set of furniture. On the desk, he set up an iPad mini with attached pink keyboard, a white vase with a small bouquet of white daises and a miniature sized bear—probably the size of her hand—from the Capezio dancewear store. It had a t-shirt on it that said 'I danced in New York'. He felt it was a proper souvenir. On the wall, just above the desk where one might hang a mirror or calendar was a small white canvas. The word 'Love' printed on it in light pinks and greys.

There was half a hutch on top of the right corner of the desk. The hutch served as a bookshelf. He didn't look through her things (which he made sure to point out) when he moved them (She may only be eight and a half but she still deserved privacy). He set her journal—the one she insisted on bringing in to the pizza parlor that day—a new notebook with a blue polka dotted bird on it, and an assortment of coloring and activity books on the lowest shelf. The next shelf, he placed a box she had tucked away in her suitcase and two stacked, rectangular, pink frosted boxes with colored pencils inside one and markers inside another, both of which he'd bought the day before. For the top shelf, he took the liberty of buying some childhood classics because she loved to read. For instance: The Little House on the Prairie Series, some Nancy Drew, Secret Garden, The Little Princess, Watership Down and Esperanza Rising. The top of the hutch met a cube like shelf again from the same furniture set and those shelves (almost like an open-cabinet or shadow box) were lined across that wall and then across the wall her bed was on (above the seating and nightstand). Inside those were a few scattered trinkets he got her. Small toys. The side wall on the left by her nightstand was all windows, covered by curtains which were white like the ones on her canopy but thicker so no one could see in when they were closed. At the moment they were all draped back with the same pink bows as her canopy.

Her closet was a little ways down from the desk. It was the nook his file cabinets used to sit in and inside was painted all light pink now. There were shelves and see through drawers, pink box like baskets and rods. All of her clothes were folded or hung neatly inside in such an organized way that the only person anyone could give credit to would be Arthur. Her shoes were lined on one of the shelves and her suitcase and backpack were neatly sat in the bottom.

The wall where the door was, across from her bed, an appropriate sized tv and attached dvd player was hung. On either side like bookends to the tv were two framed prints of a cartoon elephant on a background of light pink and white chevron. And on the front of the door was a framed light pink canvas. And stacked white text encouraging her to: SMILE, play dress up, have slumber parties, paint rainbows, SING silly songs, laugh often, believe in fairytales, DREAM BIG.' There was a light pink hook near her light switch with a strange contraption hanging from it—it certainly made her stop in her tracks. "What's that?"

"A polaroid camera. I found it while I was out one day." Arthur took it and snapped a picture to show her, then hung the camera from her neck. "Now you can take instant pictures for the journal you carry around." Chloe watched inquisitively while he shook the square photo until he held it up to show her.

Chloe then darted around the room. First to the desk, she squealed at the iPad and stood on her tip-toes to run her fingers along the spines of her books. From there she ran to her closet—an actual place in Uncle Arthur's house for her things! She didn't have to keep it all in her suitcase, they could be hung up like she actually lived there with him! She snapped pictures of everything as she went. Absolutely everything. She ran to the seats and hopped up to sit on them, felt at the cushions and leant back against the pillows. She stood up on them to see the things in her overhead boxes—four Lalaloopsy dolls sat—two in one box, two in another—with their legs hanging down, a red figurine that looked like a balloon animal. Not able to stand in any one spot for too long she hopped down and went to her bed. Chloe climbed onto it and laid for a second to enjoy the softness, then she stood and began jumping.

The Point Man, who'd been watching with a pleased smile on his face, walked over to her. His hands were flexed a smidge in front of his body in the international signal for 'calm down and don't whack me in the face with your happily flailing arms'. "Do you like it?"

Chloe paused to look him in the eye with a grin, "Oh, Uncle Arthur," and then she tackled him. Jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him to a sufficient death for someone so little, "I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She sort of hung from him, his one arm came around to make sure she didn't fall but that was the extent of his reciprocation. Chloe knew Arthur didn't like hugs but she couldn't help it. It was the happiest she'd been in a very long time. Not only was the room beautiful and reminiscent of her bedroom back home (only slightly but still) and not only were there new toys and books and her very own iPad and tv but the room itself used to be Arthur's study. His beloved study…which reminded her, "But what about your study!?" She let go and stepped back onto her bed with curious eyes.

Arthur tilted his head side and back up in lieu of a shrug, "I don't need that big of a space for my work anymore. I moved my desk and computer into my room."

"Are you gonna switch it back when I leave?" she tilted her head too but it stayed.

He shook his head, "I thought that after you left…if you ever wanted to come back and visit me this could be your space all the time." Arthur wasn't ready to take on a child full time. He'd agreed to take care of her for seven weeks not forever…but that didn't mean he wanted to ship her back to California after her camp's completion and never see or talk to her again. She'd grown on him considerably. Obviously, he turned his precious study into a bedroom for her. But—number one, his parents would have a cow when she didn't return back home. Not only might they turn in all his illegal dealings like they threatened in their ultimatum but they might very well take him to court over custody of Chloe and he wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Chloe wasn't of age to choose on her own who she preferred to stay with and Greg and Sydney most likely left her to either his parents or Sydney's. Like if something happened to Arthur or Ariadne, Ender would live with Ari's parents (in the event, they weren't able to, Ender would live with Miles and his wife). Number two, he planned on doing something to find his wife and son after Chloe went back home. She'd been his inspiration actually. He didn't know how on earth he was going to find them or even where he would start since trying to find them through the internet or mutual contacts would be futile. It would be an old-fashioned search…and he couldn't very well drag an eight year old little girl around while he scoured the globe especially with her rightful guardians chasing after him.

Chloe's smile was gigantic but the Point Man wondered why she looked ready to cry. Was it the thought of going home to her stern grandparents? Had he said something to inadvertently hurt her feelings? He inwardly grimaced; relating to children still wasn't his strong suit. Chloe wavered on her feet, her arms started to rise like she wanted to hug her uncle again but she held them down by her side. "You have no idea how much this means to me."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"What are we having for dinner?"

"I thought I'd make us some ravioli." The Point Man set some ground beef out to thaw.

Chloe skeptically looked at the meat sitting out on the plate. Pink, raw, and starting to drip. As Arthur went into the pantry to grab some pasta dough, Chloe scrunched her face and pushed the plate carefully with her index finger—it looked too gross to be sitting that close to her face. He came back and plopped the package on the counter along with a can of spaghetti sauce. A can—now they were talking. Chloe loved her some Chef Boyardee Beefaroni and that sauce was probably as close as she'd get to it tonight. "Could I help?" At home, cooking was a way her family bonded. Perhaps by helping Uncle Arthur in the kitchen, their bond would grow tighter too.

"Absolutely. I think that's a good idea." Arthur nodded, cutting open a packet with scissors. Another plate was sat on the counter and squares of pasta dough were pulled out and laid on top. "After I've browned the meat, I'd appreciate your help."

It put a smile on Arthur's face and passed the time quicker to watch Chloe dance about in the kitchen as she waited. She did her plies and tendus at the edge of the island, using it as a barre. Then practiced her grand jetes and chaine turns on either side of the dining table. She hummed the tune of Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty waltz, no doubt hearing it as a grand orchestra in her head. Arthur wondered if his little Ender was likeminded. Wondered if Ariadne was cooking dinner wherever she was and whether Ender was excitedly jumping around the kitchen, taming dinosaurs and slaying dragons. Ender liked to dress up in costumes. Ones they bought for him and ones he created out of his own wardrobe. Children have active imaginations anyway but Arthur was sure their son's was out of this world—Ariadne was his mother after all. Then again, he could've inherited Arthur's quiet sense of fancy. That didn't seem likely though since every time he looked back on moments with Ender, the boy was wrestling stuffed tigers and opening imaginary circuses.

"Ok Chloe, you think you could cut this dough into even squares?"

"Mhm!" the little girl skipped over and hopped onto the barstool. Arthur moved the pan of meat to the side and turned off the stove so he could assist her with the large rolling pasta cutter. Last thing they needed was for her to cut her finger off and need a trip to the emergency room. It was in this instance that Chloe further proved her relation to the Talesco's. She first used the width of a fork to measure out even strips and mark the edge of the dough for reference. Then she carefully rolled the cutter down each and repeated after rotating the dough to make a grid of pasta instead of columns. The Point Man put on a pot of boiling water while she neatly tore off and paired up the squares. Uncle and niece then sat side by side—Arthur made little sandwiches, sticking the meat and an assortment of cheese on a square then topping it with another and sliding it down. Chloe used the top of a fork to press the edges of the pasta together and seal them closed. She got a real kick out of it, "It looks like in Snow White when she's baking the pie and the birdies use their feet to close the top!"

"Except a bit more sanitary I hope," commented the Uncle.

Once she pressed all the edges together she dropped the raviolis into the pot of water. It already smelled super yummy and Uncle Arthur promised he would put olives into the sauce so it was gonna get even better. Chloe LOVED olives. Arthur got out a separate pot for the sauce and poured a couple cans in on medium heat. Chloe stood on a stool and continuously stirred the large pot of pasta even though there wasn't a huge need to. It made her feel productive while Arthur chopped the olives so as long as she kept ample distance from the stove, he let her do her thing. "Uncle Arthur, have you ever cooked with Ender?" asked the child, counting in her head the bubbles that popped.

"Ender's too young to help with this kind of cooking," Arthur chuckled as he chopped some basil and rosemary for the sauce, "but Ariadne and I tried baking cookies and brownies with him a few times."

"_Now pour that whole bag in," Ariadne stood behind Ender and his stool, her arms on either side of him to keep his balance as he rigorously prepared their brownie mixture. Arthur leant on the side of the counter watching them after preheating the oven and getting out their baking pan. Both his wife and son had white flour sprinkled over their already lightly freckled faces and dusted on their clothes. The Architect covered both of Ender's hands with hers and helped him stir it until smooth. Arthur was content to stay clean and give encouragement from the sidelines. It reminded him of before they even started dating when they would coincidentally both visit Dom and the kids and he used to secretly admire her as she did crafts and things with Philippa and James. "Looks yummy, Ender." Ariadne stuck her finger in, popped it in her mouth and hummed. "It is! You try."_

_Instead of using his finger, Ender spooned a nice helping of brownie mix into his mouth which got the chocolate all over his cheeks and dripping down his chin. Arthur winced at the mess, his instincts wanting to dive for the nearest wet towel to wipe his son's face but Ariadne giggled amusedly at Ender as he purred. Arthur commented, holding out a washrag to his wife but talking to the boy, "Son, you need to shave that five o' clock chocolate shadow."_

"_I think it's handsome." Ariadne defended; then she stuck her two index fingers in the mix and drew kitty whiskers on her cheeks. Ender belly laughed, lost his balance and nearly fell off the stool but Arthur thankfully swooped in and steadied him. "Ariadne," Arthur simultaneously scolded (playfully) and picked Ender up, "Sweetheart, you're setting a bad example for our child." He held his cupped hand under Ender's chin to catch the droplets of mixture before they stained his shirt._

"_Whatever, I'm encouraging his imagination." _

"_You're encouraging him to make a mess."_

_Ariadne sweetly took Arthur's face in both her hands, winking at Ender as she did so, "You know you love my messes." _

"_At least clean off his hands."_

"_I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I'm in a parallel universe." Her thumbs grazed across his cheeks and left army-like grease lines (she snuck batter onto them). She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Arthur realized what she'd done and Ender cheered, "Get him, Mommy! Get him!" _

_Arthur grit his teeth and slowly put Ender down. The Point kept his head lowered as he cut his eyes up at his wife. Ender squealed as his father lunged for his mother. The little boy jumped up and down switching his cheers to egg on both parents as they darted around the kitchen. Finally, Ariadne stopped and turned around causing Arthur to smack right into her. They both slipped on some substance that'd dripped and crashed to the floor with Ariadne on top. Ender happily skipped over and tackled both his parents. One of Arthur's happiest memories was lying on their tile floor in the kitchen, fending off two chocolate faces and their kisses._

"It always ended in a mess," his head shook, a nostalgic smile on his face as he dropped the rest of ingredients into the saucepan. He stirred it around twice with a spoon and then let it sit while he grabbed a loaf of French bread from the pantry. "What about you? You cook with your parents?"

"Mhm." Chloe kept stirring but watched Arthur slice the bread. "My daddy wasn't really ever home for dinner so I mostly cooked with my Mommy."

That was something Arthur and Greg sort of had in common: Hardly being home. Well not really…the difference was, Greg still lived at home. Maybe he didn't make it in time for dinner every night but he did come back every day and made sure to spend days off and holidays at home. He made sure to get to ballet recitals and school plays. Despite working hours upon hours in the Coastguard, he did his best…which was something Arthur had failed to do. Arthur told himself his best was coming home a week before the safety period was over or scheduling a job that'd get him home in time for a birthday or Christmas or something. "You're closer to your mom, aren't you?"

The little girl nodded, peeking back into her pot to make sure all was well, "She's the one I spent the most time with. Daddy worked a lot...but I still love him just as much."

Arthur detected a hint of melancholy in Chloe's answer. He knew she had to miss the both of them and talking about her dead parents may not have been as therapeutic for her as talking about Ariadne and Ender was for Arthur. There was hope for him to see his wife and child again, not so much hope for Chloe to see Greg and Sydney. Chloe may have had more things to talk about regarding her mother because she spent the most time with her but she probably still had wonderful memories of all the things she did with her dad too…and that was more than Arthur could hope about Ender. "What kind of things did you and your mom cook?"

He saw her perk up and grin before he turned to get butter from the fridge and heard her say, "We baked lots of cakes and cobblers and pies and brownies and cream puffs. Every time we had to bring snacks, or had a fundraiser for dance, or a bake sale at school or just for random presents for people, we would bake. The icing and decorating part was our _favorite_. We had matching aprons and chef hats for fun. Everyone said we could open our own bakery if we wanted."

Arthur thought that sounded nice. He took the opportunity to suggest, "Baker? Well why don't you take care of buttering the bread and putting it in the oven and I'll take over the stirring for a bit?" The girl had a talent for buttering bread if he recalled the toast she made for him the other morning. Just the right amount of heat to get it crisp but not burnt or hardened and just enough butter to make it soft in the middle and give it subtle but great flavor. He missed good toast, he'd leave that duty up to Chloe.

"Ok!" she hopped down too fast (and close to the stove) for Arthur's taste. But he handed her the butter knife and they switched places. "We cooked other things too. Like dinners and stuff." She gasped and looked up at him like she remembered something extremely important. Because she did. "And pancakes! Mommy made the _best_ pancakes and waffles."

Arthur smiled. Must be a woman thing…making good pancakes. Every time he tried to do it on his own they ended up too plain and every time Cobb made them when they visited, he burnt them (but it was tradition so they ate burnt pancakes every time they flew in to LA for a spell). Arthur remembered his wife mixing a bowl of her famous batter: A recipe passed down from her great grandmother except each generation added a new spin or twist of their own to it. "Ariadne makes excellent pancakes too."

Chloe narrowed her eyes and looked up at him challengingly (a bit defensive too), "Well my mom put bananas and honey in _hers._"

Arthur played along and leaned down to her level, squinting himself, "_Ariadne_ made them with white chocolate chips and cinnamon." Those were her go-to (and ultimately his favorite) but she made all kinds of them. During the fall she'd make sweet potato pancakes with melted marshmallows and nutmeg and in the winter sometimes she'd add those lightweight green and red sprinkles and peppermint…her creations were sinful, really.

The little girl sighed pitiably, "Cliché ingredients. But A for effort."

Cliché? And the competition was bananas and honey? How mainstream could you get in a recipe? Had Sydney googled that idea or found it on Pinterest? At least, Ariadne experimented and came up with her mixtures on her own. Arthur raised his eyebrows, suddenly getting too invested in a pretend rivalry with a child. "They were the best godd—" the man caught himself before the cuss word and covered, "gosh-darn pancakes I've ever tasted."

Pursing her lips, "You haven't tried my Mommy's."

"You haven't tried Ariadne's."

With an upturned nose, her reply was a simple, "I don't need to," Chloe dismissed it and returned to spreading butter with the knife, "We can agree to disagree. They can both be the best but in different ways." She found more humor in it at that point than Arthur did. (Mostly because she was tricking him and secretly her mom's was the _absolute_ best no matter what she said. But now Uncle Arthur would quit arguing a battle he'd never win).

Arthur chuckled too while pouring the sauce into the pot of pasta, "Wow. Tiny Talesco the baker _and _the diplomat."

"I _am_ in student government…" she grinned up at him.

xxxxxxx

The first night in _her_ room with Annie playing on _her_ tv was too exciting for her to get much sleep. She kept waking up and crawling out of bed to look around at it again. To make sure she wasn't dreaming and would wake up on the pull out sofa in the main living room. She treated the room as if it truly wasn't all her own yet because she didn't believe it was. She was careful adjusting the shoes on her Lalaloopsy's, was quick in flipping through one of the books and putting it back to make sure she didn't mess up the pages or the binding. It was even a shock to go into her own closet and see the dance clothes she was wearing earlier in _her _hamper. And the ones she was wearing the next day laid out. She skipped around in the room quietly and then got back in bed.

Only to wake up and repeat the process. The third time she got up, she turned on her lamp and sat at her desk. The iPad was pushed aside and as quiet as she could, she got the box of markers and her memory journal. Every time Chloe did something adventurous she liked to document it avidly. She dubbed this one her NYC/Mysterious Arthur book. She flipped passed the pages with her plane ticket pasted in and the questions she asked in the pizza place, the tag she pulled off of Emmett the monkey and a drawing of some m&m characters. The pictures she took of her bedroom earlier were stacked neatly on the corner, long-since dried. There were too many to paste them all in so she made the page pink and white striped like her walls, cut up some red construction paper and taped it in like a pocket to hold all the polaroids. On the page next to it she framed the page with purple curved lines like a cloud and wrote: "My surprise bedroom!" Then pasted the picture Arthur took to show her how the camera worked—It was her looking up with bright eyes and a half smile, half shocked 'O'. She wished she had thought to cover part of her mouth with her hand like Ariadne was doing in one of the pictures Uncle Arthur gave her, then she could've glued them next to each other and looked for similarities. Chloe's need for a maternal figure grew stronger day by day. It was nice having Arthur fit in that authoritative, male, presence (he wasn't cuddly enough to be compartmentalized into a daddy-like, father figure category quite yet) but where was the woman who'd curl her hair and paint nails and all that? Why couldn't she have both roles filled? An aunt and uncle or a 'mom and dad'.

After her room was artistically documented, she put everything away real fast and hopped into bed as if her uncle might walk in any minute and she'd be in trouble. It was only eleven…but she always did best in class the next day when she was in bed and asleep by nine. She woke up an hour later by her phone buzzing from under her pillow. They must've forgotten that time was different where she was (they forgot every time they called). "Hello?" She sat up and moved Penny to her lap so she could pet her as she talked. "Hi Mimi," she replied while yawning to her grandmother.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great!" declared Chloe, delighted as she looked around her room again. Then she remembered it was nighttime and she was supposed to be asleep and Uncle Arthur may still be up in the living room. She lowered her voice, "How are you guys?"

The woman said, "Oh, don't worry about us; you're supposed to be having fun at camp. You're having the time of your life right?"

Chloe nodded, "I am!" If they only knew who she was staying with…they'd have heart attacks over the forbidden family member. She still hadn't figured out why Uncle Arthur was shunned but she overheard something about 'his way of life' and supposed it was because of his job or something. It couldn't be because he lived in New York and was rich and dressed nice…that didn't seem as terrible a life as everyone made it out to be. "We audition for the showcase at the end of the week."

"That's sounds very exciting. Well I just wanted to check in. I don't know what time it is there. You sound tired, I hope I didn't wake you, sweetie."

Snuggled up in the covers of her very own bed, Chloe couldn't be made to feel bothered, "It's ok. Love you, Mimi."

"Love you too. Night Chloe."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

In making her bed, Chloe was extremely precise. She didn't _always_ make her bed as cautiously and thoughtfully but she wanted to make sure and show gratitude by putting the room exactly as Uncle Arthur presented it to her. It was an afterthought but she remembered to put her pj's in the hamper and even neatly lined her slippers by her bedroom door. Penny and Emmett were left sitting on her bed with a book in case they got bored and she opened her curtains for light because when they left for the day, Uncle Arthur liked all technology and lights to be off to conserve the building's energy. Just because he could afford an outrageous power bill didn't mean he should waste electricity and adversely affect the community and environment for no reason…or at least, those were his words to Chloe as he asked her to power off the living room tv one morning.

That day brought wonderful weather. The sky had a slight overcast, not enough to cover up the sun but enough to make it cool. The child came prancing out of her room as vibrantly dressed as always. White skinny jeans with orange dots on them and a sky blue fitted tee with glitter shaped like a fake pocket was the attire worn over her ballet clothes today along with her ankle cowboy boots. Chloe's disorderly hair was corrected soon enough by her uncle. With a bow the same pattern but reversed colors clipped beside her bun (AND A SMILE!), they headed out the door. Since it was such a nice day out, they decided to walk the long journey to the studio but left early enough to take a break in the middle and stop for breakfast on the way.

Chocolate milk was partly healthy Arthur reasoned to himself when he let Chloe step up to the counter and order it. Not so much along with an éclair…but he negotiated that she had to eat a whole cup of fruit as well before she had it. He thought it was a good deal, especially since she didn't mind gobbling down kiwi, pineapple and blueberries. Arthur himself ordered something more hearty like a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit and then a cup of melon and cup of coffee. They ate inside. It was much cooler out then the days previous but the air conditioning was still favored when it could be had. There were a lot of patrons in and out, few sat to eat like the Talesco's. After all, the only other people up that early were business men and women, people on their way to yoga, people already late for life at seven thirty am. Wasn't it summer, thought Chloe? Everyone should be so much more relaxed and vacation-y.

Chloe meticulously lined up her food: her bottle of milk sat just above and to the left of her éclair which was laid sideways so she could see the designs on the fancy paper. Her fruit cup matched the position of her milk on the other side with her spoon tucked in between the fruit and the handle sticking out straight up (and a hair to the right). Arthur unwrapped his biscuit at the moment she reached her hand over and corrected the placement of his coffee cup. She then lifted the camera (The Point Man wondered if she'd slept with it around her neck because he didn't think he'd seen her without it since he gave it to her) and took a picture of him across the way. Then she took it off and asked him to take one of her. He urged her to eat because they didn't know what could come up on the rest of the way to dance that could make them late. Chloe obeyed, shoveling in fruit with her right hand and waving her pictures in the air with her left. Willing them to dry.

They were talking about what Chloe might like for dinner. Arthur researched some kid friendly meals the night before to introduce some variety into their everyday menu. Spaghetti, ravioli, pizza…sure the Talescos had Italian heritage and blood but they didn't have to live solely off of different forms of pasta every night. Arthur was in the middle of a sentence, "I found a recipe online we could try. It's—" when he froze up and silenced. Chloe looked up from her fruit when he randomly cut off, "It's what?" Except her uncle didn't answer. His thick eyebrows were creased and his complete focus was fixed at a point behind Chloe's head. She tilted her head peculiarly at him and when he remained hypnotized, she twisted in her chair to look at the pay counter.

Oh. There was a little boy about five or six, dressed nicely in a short sleeve polo and plaid Bermuda shorts, with a jet black bowl cut, using his arms to pull himself up on tip-toe to see over the counter. Next to him stood a short, super petite woman with pretty, wavy brown hair falling down her back.

Arthur couldn't believe it. Out of all the cities in the world and even then, out of all the eateries in New York…after searching for them all this time, using his recent jobs to negotiate an in with the government to help him get access to the files his father helped her lock him out of…Ariadne and Ender. Right there. If his heart hadn't stopped and his blood hadn't refused to pump, he would've jumped up. But he was paralyzed by the sight and the hope soaring through his veins. "He'll have an apple juice," she said, "And what else, E? Did you pick out something?"

"I can't see up there," the boy pointed to the top of the case. So Ariadne picked him up and set him on her hip, the both of them peering through the glass. "Um, that one!"

The man working the register chuckled, "Lemon poppyseed muffin it is, then?"

The mother nodded and put the boy down, "I guess. And a caramel latte and cinnabon for me."

Chloe looked sort of disbelievingly at the back of the woman's head and then at Uncle Arthur who looked like he'd just seen an angel float into the building. He swallowed hard and stood, brushing off his suit and combing back his hair in a way she'd swear was nervously. Uncle Arthur could never be nervous…how was that possible? The little girl was completely puzzled by this rare form she was seeing. Was he walking over there? What the heck was Uncle Arthur doing? The man at the counter joked with her, "I have a feeling you two might be switching pastries."

She laughed as she pulled some bills from her wallet, "Oh, I know we will." Ariadne collected her change and shoved it into her purse then guided her son to the side while they waited on their order to be filled. That's when Arthur caught up to them. His hand grasped at her shoulder with uncertainty and anxiousness but also with promising delight, "Ariadne…"  
>xxxxxxxx<p>

Sorry this chap was a bit plain in comparison to others. It'll pick up back to regular pace next chap, obviously lol.

EEEEEEP! And we'll have to wait until the next chap to see how that pans out…thoughts on how you'd like it to go down? Pics of Chloe's room and present/previous outfit/s linked to profile.


	7. You Deserve It

_SiSi4: _Yes, they're thankfully making progress. Go curiosity, haha. And yes, that would be interesting…=) _Coffeebean: _He's been very torn up…I bet we're all wondering how Ariadne's side of the coin has been fairing. Yeah, I think Chloe and Ender would be an adorable team as well! I feel bad for her too…I know Arthur's separation from his family gets more focus in the story than Chloe losing her parents so we all (even me lol) forget that Greg and Sydney died and Chloe's going through her own trauma. And Ender's parents separating had to have affected him in some way. So these four are just royally messed up. And thanks! I'm glad the reference images are of benefit and that someone's actually looking at them! _Neverlandspirit: _Arthur's pretty good at interior decorating eh? And I'm just not going to comment on their reunion lol…_Lauraa-x: _Yeah we'll see…and hahaha I was looking up reference pictures for it and was like if I were eight ID WANT THAT ROOM. Here ya go!

Thanks _annlea913 _for making this story a fave.

**Chapter 7: You Deserve It**

"Arthur Dad?" The little boy voiced his shock before his mother was able to comprehend. Arthur saw the start in the boy's feet, saw the instinct to lunge towards Arthur but Ender held back. Instead he looked up at Ariadne warily and stepped behind her, his hand squeezing hers tighter.

"Hey buddy," Arthur smiled down at his son. Out of the corner of his eye, Ariadne's hand was feeling at her jacket pocket. He took that as his cue to look at her again. Finally seeing her, finally looking straight into her eyes, brown into brown, was simultaneously the most wonderful and yet the most painful feeling. "Ariadne," he repeated.

"Arthur." The Point Man could always sense what she was feeling but it was dulled from their time apart. He couldn't read her as easily as he once could but the tension in her body, in her face, was mirrored in him. Ariadne was reinforcing her walls, steeling herself with a swallow and slight turn of her head, "Hi."

He felt as limp as a noodle. His knees were weak, his bones felt heavy. He wish she'd let him hold her. Wish she'd open her arms and let him collapse into them like she was his warm bed after a long, hard day. Everything in him felt like singing. Felt like crying. His stomach twisted up in knots as winding and complex as a Penrose Staircase. And of all the many things he wanted to say—'I love you', 'I've missed you', 'I'm sorry', 'Come home', 'My life feels worthless when you're not in it'—he could only nervously choke, "Hi." And he could only stare at her like an apparition.

The guy at the register put her bags of pastries and two drinks on the counter. She handed Ender his bottle of juice and the bag so he could fish the pastry he wanted out, grabbed her drink and the back of Ender's shirt and guided the boy out of the store and out onto the street. Despite feeling sharp knives in his feet and fingertips when he moved, he somehow followed Ariadne and Ender outside and grabbed her wrist before they made it out of his sight again. He couldn't let them out of his sight again…he'd implode. The woman looked at where they were touching, the slightest bit of melancholy in her eye and a near undetectable furrow of her brow. Ariadne's eyes cut back up to his, "Arthur…" the shake of her head was small but for Arthur it was enough to level buildings. Where the wetness on his cheeks came from, he wasn't sure. All of sudden it was there and dripping off his chin and his eyes were blurry and her wrist in his hand was searing him to the bone. "I've been looking for you," he rasped, "I've been—I've been—"

Ender peeked from behind his mom; His beautiful blue eyes blinked at Arthur. "I've been miserable…" confessed Arthur. Finally feeling bad enough for his dad, Ender hugged Arthur's leg and reassured him, "It's ok, Arthur Dad." The Point Man scooped the boy up and held onto him with a death grip. When he met eyes with Ariadne, she frowned, an imperceptible amount of mistiness in her gaze, "I've been miserable too…"

It would've been nice if that had happened. 

But none of it did.

The countless times Arthur had imagined their reunion it was like something out of your favorite scene in some romantic drama. A Nicholas Sparks or John Green inspired work. See for all of Arthur's stiff, no-nonsense, cynicism, he was actually very romantically inclined. Which after some deep thought, makes sense as well. He was a chivalrous gentleman who valued the traditional way of courting women: opening doors, pulling out chairs, bringing roses. One might even say he was a hopeless romantic. Even more so than Ariadne. He wanted to literally carry his bride 'over the threshold' when they got married. He was the rose petal sprinkling, cheesy line saying type of husband when everything was said and done. Ariadne—or rather, the things she made him feel—caused him to be that way.

He didn't usually imagine them randomly bumping into each other in public, however. For Arthur, he hoped it would be more of an intentional meeting on either of their parts. He hoped one of them would've sought the other out. Regardless, every time, when their eyes met, the world stopped. He figured she'd be at least a little upset with him, which was understandable, so he made sure he always imagined that to keep it realistic. But no matter what, he would apologize, get down on his knees and tell her how lost he'd been without her and Ariadne would forgive him, saying they were both at fault. That she missed him just as much and wished they hadn't wasted any time apart. And then they'd kiss and he's swing her in circles and Ender would come running up to hug his leg, saying 'Daddy, come home!' So when the moment arose in that coffee shop, Arthur predicted what would follow his tap of her shoulder would be something very, very similar.

Except it was very, very, different.

In response, the woman turned in surprise and gave him the weirdest look, "Excuse me?" Already untrusting, already on guard and offended by him reaching out. She held her bag and her son closer to her out of defense and gave him a cautious once over. What made this attitude better for Arthur was that…_it wasn't Ariadne_. Her eyes were green, her nose wasn't shaped right, her lips were too thin and her face too round. Arthur removed his hand like wildfire and stepped back. "I ap—I apologize. I am so sorry. I thought you were my—someone else."

The woman eased up and adjusted the bag on her shoulder, still careful to keep tight grip on her son though. Eyeing the progress of her order she gave him a flippant, "Oh, it's fine."

Awkwardly, Arthur complimented the child, "You have a very well behaved little boy."

"Thank you," the mother grinned at her kid and snickered, "He's having a rare good morning."

The little boy looked up at the strange man who'd approached them. His nose was wrong too and his eyes were hazel. Ender's were unmistakably, vividly blue like Ariadne's mother and grandfather. But the woman called him 'E' hadn't she? "If you don't mind my asking, what's your son's name?"

"Evan," she offered and then cut off further conversation by reaching for their completed order. She handed the bottle of juice and bag to the boy so he could fish out which pastry he wanted, grabbed her drink and the back of her son's shirt, and guided him out of the store and onto the street.

Arthur smiled politely at the man behind the counter and stiffly returned to his seat where a stunned little Chloe sat. Anyone could see he was hit hard by his mistake. And to him it felt like the entire bistro was staring at him. Like the entire state of New York was staring at him. Like all of the cities' blinking signs were pointing to him, throwing it in his face that he could never be so lucky as to randomly bump into his wife and son. His jaw ground back and forth as he tried to non-committedly stir his coffee and he would look nowhere else but. Chloe felt bad for him. He acted all tough and to himself but he was actually a sentimental man, wasn't he? Family was _actually_ very important to him. She could tell by the way he looked at that woman when he thought she was his wife. When he thought that little boy was his son, Ender. He was different. He was open and vulnerable instead of stand offish and mysterious. His posture was gentle instead of rigid. His eyes looked warm instead of empty or constantly thinking. Chloe remembered that day she found the pictures in his study and how angry and loud he got. He wasn't angry at all though, was he? He was sad. And hurt. And lonely. She had to try to get his mind off of it, to act like she thought nothing much of it in case he was embarrassed. Like she didn't even notice he got up. So she quietly brought up the dinner again. "What was the recipe you were talking about?"

"Oh," Arthur remembered himself and tried to brush it off his shoulders, "They're apple and cheese frittatas."

Chloe smiled that way people do when they're trying to share the smile. Trying to transfer it from one person to another in order to make them feel better. "That sounds yummy." Her uncle's head sunk back to gaze deeply into the black pool of his coffee. The little girl had never seen him slump his shoulders. Never seen him fight the frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. She didn't say anything else the rest of breakfast and neither did he. He evidently wasn't feeling up to conversation and it seemed like silence was the best medicine at the moment. Soon, she was popping the last bit of éclair into her mouth, tucking her pictures into the pocket of her backpack and grabbing the nose of her chocolate milk bottle while he threw away their trash. She knew to stay close to him on the sidewalk even though the streets weren't as crowded as they would be in say half an hour or so. She didn't have to jog to keep up with him…he was walking like he was half asleep.

They came to a crosswalk and had to wait with a group of tourists (judging by the fanny packs and digital cameras), another man in a suit and some girl in khakis, a polo and a nametag. Chloe took the opportunity to look up at her Uncle Arthur and see how he was faring. His eyes were still hard. Not in the usual way though. They were only hard around the edges and his overall sullenness was more downhearted than dull. To anyone else he'd look like the usual peer-y eyed, bored yet determined businessman but Chloe saw him every day and knew there was a difference. The little girl wanted so very badly to comfort him so she did it in the only way she could think of that was subtle and wordless.

Chloe held his hand.

Arthur was immediately pulled out of his funk by a small hand slipping into his. He looked down at the culprit—who in turn upturned her lips into a sweetened, supportive smile—and the man melted. Here he was, the adult, and this little girl was the one consoling and uplifting him. How could Arthur not have seen it before? His duty as a brother and an uncle was taking care of her and making her happy, he recognized _that_. He was doing excellent at feeding and transporting and keeping her alive if he said so himself but he also thought that all of _that _had to do with the things he bought her. Clothes, hair supplies, groceries, toys, furniture, cameras, iPads, what have you. But those things weren't what truly mattered to her. There in her eyes and her smile, in the gentle squeeze of her tiny hand was what she really wanted. He could tell because it was the way Ender always looked at and smiled at him. She wanted Arthur's approval. She wanted him to like her, to care about her, to treat her as the family she was instead of a kid he was babysitting for a friend. The little girl needed someone in the world to love her as much as Arthur needed to love someone. If he couldn't share things with and dote on his son why not share things with and dote on his niece? Why not be the father figure she lost and the father figure he hadn't been to Ender? Why not use this experience to practice, to learn, to grow as a caretaker? And then once he was the ideal family man, he could find Ariadne and make everything up to her and their son. Who knows, after his family was patched up, maybe they could fly Chloe back out to them and keep her a bit. Maybe Ariadne would want to adopt her. He'd be doing everyone a favor getting her out of his parents' house and hair. Ariadne would absolutely love her (she was like Philippa and she adored Philippa) and Chloe would make a great big sister. Ender would have someone to play with…

Filled with a new glimmer of hope, Arthur returned the little girl's smile and gave her hand a small squeeze back as they started to walk with the crowd again. "So, the frittatas. They look like pies when they're all baked and sliced. Think that'd be fun to make?"

"Mhm."

"Me too. Which kind of apples sound the best: red, green or gold?" He knew her answer. She was obsessed with a certain kind but Arthur knew she'd like to give input.

"Golden Delicious!" She yelled and pointed towards the sky. This time, Arthur just snickered at all the people who jumped and gave them startled looks.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_Arthur jogged from the car, pocketing his keys as he entered the restaurant. He checked his watch…he was on time, however the three men he was meeting up with were already there and seated at a table. With drinks. The Point informed the hostess he was with them by means of a pointed finger their direction and then he made his way to the booth. The three men were squeezed together on one side so naturally Arthur took the free area across from them. He ordered two drinks and then greeted his friends. Exchanging cliché 'good to see you's and 'been a while's._

_It was the Englishman who deliberately eyed the empty space next to Arthur and queried, "Wait a minute, where's our beautiful girl?"_

"My _beautiful girl," Arthur corrected and checked his watch again. He'd talked her on the phone on the way there. That was roughly ten minutes ago and she was fixing to leave (or said she was) at the time._

_Yusuf crossed his arms and protested jokingly, "_She's_ the one we wanted to see." The other two men nodded in good-humored agreement. _

_Arthur snickered at them and assured, "She had to help Miles with something at the college first but she's coming." Just so they wouldn't worry if she was sick or think she was ditching them. Which, Ariadne wouldn't, but a clarification was always nice. _

_Eames simpered and sucked on the tip of his straw obnoxiously. His eyes in slits. No doubt trying to make an innuendo out of it, "It's been about a year now, hm? I'm surprised she's not bored of you already, Artie."_

_Adding to the teasing, Yusuf clicked his tongue, "I always thought you'd be eternally wed to your PC."_

_And to round it out, Dom laughed and leaned on the table to properly make eye contact with both his friends, "Don't worry guys," his hand flexed and his voice took on a mocking tone, "a year from now Arthur will still be married to his job."_

_The jesting was all in good fun, Arthur knew. He didn't take as much offense to it as he normally would. He took it in stride, a small smile on his face as he let them ramble on, crack jokes, and have their fun. It'd be the last time they got to use those worn out gags on him. "Actually, a year from now, I'll be married to Ariadne." It was better than any prank or witticism to see their jaws hit the table. The flabbergasted looks on their faces were priceless—he'd been waiting forever to throw it at them. How was _that_ for a punchline?_

_The Forger recovered first and by recovered, I mean he stuttered and tripped all over his own tongue, "Woah now. Woah, woah, woah. Rewind the hell backwards and freeze." He gave Arthur a warning look and aimed his pointer finger at his chest, "You're not pulling our legs are you? Because it's not funny if you are."_

"_I'm serious." Arthur grinned like the Cheshire Cat and leant back, spread himself out on his booth. His arms draped along the width of the back. "I proposed while we were in Beirut." Two minutes later and their slack-jaws weren't old yet._

_Eames deadpanned, "And she said yes?" _

"'_A million yesses' to be exact."_

"_Holy…" Yusuf stared at him in amazement. Engaged-to-be-married-Arthur was basically the eighth wonder of the world. Not to mention he was smiling with dimples and his laser-shooting eyes were all bright. He looked like a human. A very happy human. A very happy human who was in love…Dom picked up on that too. He'd seen Arthur relaxed but this was an entirely different animal from the one he was used to. The Extractor tilted his head, "My world just turned upside down. I don't know what's what anymore."_

_Arthur thanked the waitress for dropping off he and Ariadne's beverages and then raised his eyebrows at them, "You can't be surprised. You're all always teasing me about being traditional and old fashioned. Of course I'd want to marry the woman I fell in love with." _

"_Yeah but to hear you say it," Yusuf emphasized. "Your indifference to the whole of humanity has been the constant of my life…"_

_Under the table, the foot Arthur had propped up on his knee bounced happily. Almost giddily. He took a generous swig of his water, "Well I'm not sorry to prove your 'Arthur the Heartless Robot' stereotype wrong. I love Ariadne irrevocably. As long as I'm breathing, I want to be hers and I'll vow such."_

"_Who is this fucking poet?" Eames breathed to Yusuf._

_To which Yusuf whispered back, "He used a big word, he's in there somewhere."_

_Dom dropped the act and nodded, "Joking aside, I'm honestly very happy for the two of you."_

"_Happy for us or happy you were right?" Eames was right too. He teased and prodded them to the point of unbearable awkwardness because he could sense the attraction but Dom was the one who ultimately encouraged it and pushed Arthur towards her. He was the one who straight up told Arthur that Arthur liked her and he better take her dinner because if she got away, Arthur would hate himself forever. Boy, was Dom right. Arthur looked back on that day a lot and imagined how different and miserable things might've been if he hadn't asked her to dinner that night. Dom just cockily shrugged, "A little bit of both."_

_Arthur retracted his arms and sat back up, "We're thinking about October, stateside. I'd like you to be my best man, Dom. And Yusuf and Eames if the two of you wouldn't mind stepping in for us as groomsmen…" Just then, a familiar woman in a sundress and cardigan stepped in the door looking for a group of men. They waved her over, all smiles, and each stole a hug. Eames was the last. His hug was pretty greedy and his kiss on her cheek wet, "Congratulations, Darling."_

_Ariadne's smile dropped and she looked down at Arthur and whined, "You're kidding. You told _them _without me too?"_

"_We were already talking about you and it just blurted out," he grimaced, taking her hand and pulling her down into the booth with him. _

"_I don't get to see anyone's reactions," she told the group, almost pouting "He tells everyone first. He even told our regular coffee guy this morning while I was in the bathroom." _

"_I'm sorry," he shrugged. "I can't keep it to myself." They could all tell Ariadne wasn't that angry about it from the way the couple laughed it off and pecked._

"_Well, did he ask you about the wedding party?"_

_Not wanting to get the Point Man in trouble, the men pursed their lips and shook their heads non-committedly. Well, except for Eames. He enjoyed every chance to get Arthur in trouble. He slyly nodded, "Yup."_

_Ariadne's head darted to Arthur with a glare. The man plastered on a hopeful smile and lilted, his tone going upward as his sentence went. Placating her, "I ordered you a Shirley Temple…" after she raised her eyebrows and blinked at him (her smile growing. She expected a certain kind of apology) he added with an emphasized kiss on the cheek, "and I love you so much…" Ariadne just laughed at stuck her fork in her glass to pick out some cherries.  
><em>xxxxxxx

When Chloe's last class was let out that day, Arthur was _bombarded _by three little girls. If they were taller and wearing camo, he might've gone into 'ambush deflecting' mode. The other two stood behind Chloe, smiling widely at him (ignoring their mothers' questions and calls) while she batted her eyes at him and sweetly crooned, "Uncle Arthur?"

He raised his eyebrows and pocketed his phone, "Uh oh. I sense trouble."

"Linny and Emma's moms are taking them to Kil'n Time and they asked if I—we—could come." The little girl bit her lip.

The last time Chloe was invited somewhere…she was actually not invited and it crushed her. Since this time the invitation was directed towards her specifically and she'd finally have the opportunity to spend time with other girls (that weren't evil, classless, little shits), he hated to turn her down. He didn't rule it out. But decided to inquire further because he wasn't sure what she was even asking about. He got that she wanted to go somewhere with her friends but where exactly and what they would do was up in the air. "What type of place is Kiln Time?" Of course he didn't think it was some kind of kid's rave club (those didn't exist right?) but maybe it was like rock climbing or zip-lining…it could be bungee jumping or a shooting range for all he knew.

"It's a pottery place. Where we get to paint and bake our own stuff." Well. That was much safer than he anticipated. Knowing his niece and her daredevil tendencies, he suspected sky-diving or swimming with sharks. Chloe bunched the cuff of his sleeve. She didn't jump up and down or shake his arm, just kept it gripped tight with roundest puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen. "Can we go? Pretty please?"

There was nothing specific he had planned for the afternoon except making their frittatas for dinner. But they didn't have any apples in stock and they could make the recipe another day if they got home late. Chloe's heart was set on it so there was nothing else he could say but, "Ok, we'll go."

"Yes!" Chloe punched the air and then high fived her friends. Once given the approval, Emma and Linny went to their respective parents to collect their things and leave. Little Miss Chloe, the fashionista, stepped into her leggings (pink, peach and red floral print with layered red ruffles at the bottoms), slid on her white shirt (trimmed in pink, with pink buttons, peter pan collar and two ruffles reminiscent of a tux), a dark denim vest and her orange and pink flats from the other day. The brightest thing in Arthur's wardrobe was his watch and that was only because the silver reflected the light. Sometimes.  
>xxxxxxxx<p>

Emma and Linny both picked out small horse figurines to paint and were waiting on Chloe to make a decision so they could start. Arthur stood with wallet in hand, looking into the glass case with her. "You could make a few small tea cups for your Loopsy dolls," suggested the man, pointing to a minuscule tea set that looked fit. Chloe sighed.

It was Linny who tugged her arm and pressured, "Chloe, get the pony so we can all have one."

The child _did_ look at the ponies in Emma and Linny's hands longingly. Arthur wondered why on earth she didn't just pick the pony if that's what she (and her friends) really wanted. Instead, she looked at the nice lady behind the counter and pointed to a mug, "I want to make that for my Uncle Arthur."

Blown back, Arthur shook his head modestly and said, "That's sweet, Tiny, but I don't need it. Make the pony if that's what you really want."

Chloe glanced at her friends' hands again but was steady in her decision. Her head shook resolutely, "I want to make you a mug. You deserve one." After the morning he had, the little one thought a present would cheer him up.

"Well then I'll make you the pony." Lord help him. Of all the words Arthur never expected to come out of his own mouth, he had to be surprised with those. If he knew Chloe (which at this point, he knew her pretty well), she was going to document this outing as she did all others…it was ok if she wanted pictures of him delicately painting a miniature pony for her scrapbook journal. He could live with them pasted in a book she never let anyone else see. But if there were copies or leftovers they would be burned. Eames was thousands of miles away and hadn't visited the Point in years but somehow, he would find a way to those pictures and taunt Arthur for life. All of Arthur's wanted posters in various corporations around the world would be of him putting the requested lilac dots on a ceramic pony's butt—his one true nightmare, if he was honest, wasn't being captured by an old client, mark or teammate with a grudge…it was them putting him in a room with a slideshow of those pictures, pointing and laughing: _Brony, Brony, Brony. _He should be above that. But he wasn't.

They were each given an extra block of clay, the three girls and Arthur, to add anything extra they wanted on the figurines (or mug in Chloe's case). Emma and Linny and therefore Arthur (because Chloe wanted her pony to match theirs) decided on adding a unicorn horn to the pony's head and small wings to its back. Not that he would admit it but working with clay was actually therapeutic. Mashing it and molding it. It was Arthur's thing to be meticulous about detail so he may have gone overboard spiraling the horn and putting ridge detailing on the wings. What Chloe was shaping together was supposed to be a secret. She asked for a pottery idea book to prop in between them so Arthur couldn't see. If he straightened all the way up, he could see what she was cutting up over the book anyway but he wasn't about to spoil it for her. "You're not looking right?" asked Chloe for the umpteenth time. It was a habit that recurred every five minutes or so.

"No, I'm not."

He heard the clunk of her clay-knife against the table and hoped she hadn't cut a finger off. It was a pretty blunt tool, non-serrated, so unless she determinedly and forcefully tried to chop through her bone nothing was really going to happen. Still, she was his niece and they made them sign waivers so he was being paranoid. She didn't scream in horrific pain, she lilted, "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," he squinted and pinched the edge of one of the wings so he could fix the ridges _again.  
><em>xxxxxxx

Because the additions were small, the store estimated an hour or two for them to be partly baked to fuse into the original structure. Then they would be ready for painting. So the group agreed to spend time perusing the nearby American Girl Doll Store and grab a smoothie if time permitted while they waited. Arthur grew up with a brother, he had a little boy, there was no reason for him to go inside a doll store before now. Philippa had dolls when she was the age for it (she thought she was too old now) so he'd seen them. Ariadne mentioned she had them when she was a little girl but she didn't keep them or bring them to Paris with her when she moved.

He never imagined the world of dolls would be so extensive. This wasn't a store, it was an emporium. There was a hair salon, a doll hospital, stables, _everything_. As if these dolls were real live breathing people. Something Arthur did appreciate was the historical value this brand of dolls brought to the table. You could create a doll to look like you and buy all kinds of sets that coincided with the present day or pick a doll with a time period. From the 1700's or 1900's or the 70's etc., all different cultural and societal backgrounds. The stories themselves were unpredictably interesting to Arthur albeit pretty heavy for young kids. Some of them he had to do a double-take on. One was escaping slavery with her family, one's mom had died, both parents of one had died and was now living with her widowed grandmother and protesting against the dangers of children working in factories, one had a blind sister, one lived during the great depression…he was tempted to read the books for further insight into these tragic lives. Arthur also appreciated the tedious detail put into the sets. Who knew Arthur would enjoy himself looking at accessories and furniture for _dolls. _Arthur asked Chloe if she had any of these because he certainly encouraged a play toy which had educational value.

She nodded, fixing the skirt of a doll dress displayed in front of them, "I have Samantha and Kit at home. I didn't bring them because I didn't have room in my suitcase."

Excellent. Points for Greg and Sydney. "Would you like to get something for them? Pick out a few things."

"It's ok," Chloe shook her head, "I have most of their collections already." Despite her polite decline, Arthur saw her eyes gleam when she looked at the distinguished pink bike outfit propped up for Samantha. The little girl chewed on her lip and peered at the price for it then looked for the small box on the adjacent shelves, "Besides they gave me money for souvenirs and stuff, I can buy something myself."

Arthur bent in half to scan over the price and was appalled, "Not for forty dollars you're not. I'll get it. Save your money for something else you want."

"But everything I want, you won't let me get myself," the child crossed her arms over her chest. Arthur gave her a look of disbelief. What kid on earth would argue with an adult when they offered to buy an expensive toy for them? Emma and Linny were darting around the store practically begging their moms for something. He thought he overheard them granted an outfit and small set each. Chloe leaned on the shelf with one elbow and blew air out of her cheeks, "This cash is burning a hole in my backpack. Mimi and Papa are gonna be suspicious when I come home without spending a penny. I have eyes too big for my wallet, they won't buy it." While true, in reality, she was afraid that Uncle Arthur felt obligated to buy her things. Maybe he thought that's just what you do with kids. But her mom taught her never to take advantage of someone's kindness and after Uncle Arthur not only set up a bedroom for her but bought books and toys and hair bows and all sorts of things when he barely wanted her to stay there a couple weeks ago…she felt like she was bordering that line. Last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a brat. That's why she decided to make him a mug instead of making a pony for herself.

True, Arthur reasoned. At this rate, Chloe would need a U-Haul or at least three more suitcases to take everything he'd gotten her back with her—and he hadn't thought about how Chloe would justify going back to his parents with so much stuff _and _full pockets. Then again, Arthur mentioned to her about coming and visiting him every so often and having her room in his penthouse. And he meant it very seriously. Perhaps, every summer she could come to camp and stay with him. And then come for longer stays or a potentially permanent one once Ariadne and Ender were back in the picture. She'd just have to leave all her new books and toys at his place, after all, she'd want some things to play with there when she came back. "Will you have some left over if you purchase that yourself? A decent amount?"

Chloe looked up in thought probably calculating in her head. A couple seconds later she nodded, "They gave me a couple hundred, in case."

Arthur nodded, "Ok. If it's financially doable for you and you'd like to pay out of your own pocket, I won't object. But let it be known, this is only for the record so your Mimi and Papa won't get suspicious, find out we've met, and chop my head off."

Chloe hummed and hugged the (pretty small) box to her.

"Is there another doll you like though?" Arthur casually asked as they started heading towards the front, looking to see if her friends were ready to check out as well. "One for me to buy?" The Point Man had plenty of money. Hell, he still had some left over from the job _before Inception_. He'd done many, many jobs since then and finished another not long before Chloe showed up. He was looking for something or someone to spend some of it on. As therapeutic as mashing clay was, retail therapy was just as satisfying for him. If he could provide things and make certain ones he cared about smile, he liked to do it. He was the same way with Ariadne and Ender. '_Overkill', _Ariadne would chide. Sometimes, Ariadne and Ender wouldn't even truly want something. They could aimlessly look at it in passing and it would be sitting, wrapped, on their bedside table in the morning. Arthur lived to dream, yes, but he really lived to spoil. It was his way of showing love. Showing he valued his friends and family. He missed shelling out bills and swiping his card for other people. Missed that swelling pride that came with the other person's grateful smile. Chloe side-eyed a couple dolls as they walked but kept her head forward and her attitude non-chalant, "I'm ok. You've been so nice already and you're making me a pottery pony." Her pastel nails picked at the corners of the box she was holding, telling Arthur it was taking some self-restraint to keep turning him down. That politeness and sweetness only made him want to reward his young niece more.

Arthur pushed with a smirk, "She would stay with me and keep me company when you go back home. And then when you visit again, you won't have to bring too many things because you'd have toys here."

Chloe stopped in her tracks and as a result so did he. The eight (and a half) year old looked up at him and his raised eyebrows. She took a deep breath, her lips made a flat line and she tensely shook her head then kept walking, trying really hard not to look at any other dolls. She was getting a set to take home to Samantha ( she had the scooter set for Kit so now the two could ride together and get some exercise), she was very happy with that. Chloe didn't _need _another doll. But she _wanted _it. _No. _Chloe wanted Uncle Arthur to love her more than she wanted a doll; she wasn't going to get greedy and—what was it called? Overpay her welcome? Something like that. She heard the phrase before and it wasn't used in a good way.

Arthur wandered off and naturally she followed him because kids are supposed to follow their guardians around. "I tell you what, what if I got one for us to share?" Arthur eyed a blonde doll on display who was from the 1970's—the decade his brother was born in, "I think Julie's pretty cool. And Greg was born in '78…I think her stuff would be really interesting to collect for that alone. Everything's so accurate to the time period and I really appreciate having historical detail in the things I own. But I don't think I'd _play_ with a doll…if I got her, I'd need someone to play with her for me to make the purchase worthwhile." He picked up the box with the doll in it and looked at her mock-modestly, "You think you could? For me?"

"You do love history…." Chloe inhaled deeply with a hint of a smile creeping onto her face, "I guess I could."

Arthur grinned, "Alright well, she needs to be comfortable with us. So we need her bed…find that box." Chloe took off down the aisle in Julie's section and looked for the display that showed where the doll's bedroom stuff would be. It wasn't the heaviest ever but Chloe struggled (using her knee as a prop) to get the box up to hold. Arthur found her and picked up his pace to take it from her, telling her to trade and hold what he had in his hand. He informed, "I got her another outfit and some pajamas and one of the food sets because we don't have any doll food and you have a lot of dolls."

They ran into the other little girls and their moms at the pay counter. Arthur and Chloe were a few people ahead of them in line and could feel the amazed eyes of their friends on their backs. American Girl stuff was not cheap, if they hadn't already grasped the concept that Chloe's Uncle Arthur was some sort of rich businessman, they did now.

Emma, Linny and Chloe sat at their own table in the smoothie shop talking about their dolls. Emma had Rebecca and Linny had Kaya. They went through both the girls sets and then carefully (with permission) the three of them opened Julie's box. Usually Arthur had to remind Chloe about her messy snacking but she was extremely cautious about sipping and keeping all traces of mango strawberry away from Julie.

Unfortunately, with the children caught up in their own world a table over, Arthur was stuck with Hilary, Kim and their curiosity. At least with Chloe, they were related (so he was sort of biologically obliged to tolerate it) and she was halfway cute with her precocious questions. But these women were none of those. _So you're married? _Arthur skirted around that one. Made Ariadne sound like him—out of town on business a lot. It was the easiest possible answer because it didn't need elaboration or explanation about their past. It was just a 'he's taken and she works' sort of thing so they dropped it. Emma's mom Hilary was recently divorced as well but it was a rare pretty one. Her and her ex-husband were still friendly. She even went shopping and to lunch with her ex's new wife often. She came with Emma to NYC because her ex (Jake) offered to pay for both of them and Emma wasn't ready to travel alone. Another little girl from her home studio was supposed to come too but their funds fell through. Linny and her mom (Kim) and her dad and baby sister lived in Brooklyn. So they were essentially at home—just trying something new and challenging over the summer. None of this Arthur truly cared to know. As always, he was blitzed with personal information but tight-lipped about his own. He checked his watch regularly until two hours had passed and he could use going back to the pottery place as an excuse to cease conversation.

It honestly took less time to paint their pieces of pottery than it took to sculpt additions to them because they each knew what they were going for. Chloe requested lilac polka dots somewhere on the pony but other than that he had free will. Arthur painted the main body of the pony a mint green like Chloe's stuffed elephant Penny and then sprinkled the dots on top of it. He was going to have the wings a simple white but after looking at Emma and Linny's ponies decided Chloe would like something a little livelier. So he went with a hot pink for the tail and wings and did detailing in a glittery silver. After seeing it on the wings, he knew it was the perfect choice to make the pony's unicorn horn all glittery. Again, he felt ridiculous (especially as other patrons walked passed him) fastidiously decorating a miniature unicorn but it was for Chloe, so he ignored the stares and focused on which color she'd like the hooves.

Now Chloe seemed to be going a more minimalistic route. No doubt keeping her Uncle Arthur's taste in mind. He continued refraining from peeking to appease her but could still see the colors she was using: white, black and red. That's it. Considering her wardrobe and everything else about her, Arthur was astonished she didn't have every color of the rainbow on her palette...But he wasn't about to say anything and risk his mug looking like a leprechaun fairy threw up on it.

Their painted models would take longer to bake this round so they'd have to wait and pick them up the next day (Thursday) on their way home from ballet. Arthur supposed that was a very good thing, it'd keep Chloe's mind off of worrying for the rest of the night about auditions on Friday. She could look forward to picking up her pottery and having ample time to play with her doll. That'd be good for all three of the little girls. Because the day had been used up by their activities and uncle and niece alike were quite frankly exhausted, they held off on stopping by the store for apples and making those frittatas. For dinner, they got a sub from the deli close to their building and hauled all their American Girl stuff (and her dance stuff) into the elevator and into the penthouse.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Minor assembly was required for Julie's bed—which only made sense to be set up in Chloe's room. While Arthur was putting the doll furniture together, his niece was hanging up Julie's few outfits, changing her into her pajamas and introducing her to all her other toys and animals. Chloe fell asleep before the bed was complete; the Point Man took it into his room so he could turn her light off and let her rest. Arthur sat against the side of his bed by the light of his lamp with a screwdriver. Last time Arthur put a bedframe together—

_Arthur twisted the screwdriver rigorously while watching Ariadne walk around. Power drill in one hand, phone in the other. "Ok, E, we'll see you in the morning. I love you." Arthur couldn't hear actual words through the receiver just an enthusiastic squeaky voice but from the smile on Ariadne's face, it was clear Ender reciprocated the sentiment. Arthur called from his spot so the phone would pick him up and Ender could hear, "Night little man, Dad loves you too." _

_She asked, "You hear Daddy?" Then her smile shone her husband's way as she repeated the boy's reply, "I love you Arthur Dad." Laughing, she requested, "Night booger. Give the phone back to Grandpa Miles, please." _

_Arthur laid the frame down then tilted the other side to get a better angle to screw the corners. Ender was about to turn three and after he figured out how to actively scale his crib with the mattress lowered as far as possible it became a safety issue to keep him there. Especially when he started doing it, not to escape the bed, but to entertain himself. Up and down, in and out, all the time. There were a couple of pretty ugly and parent-terrifying falls so Arthur and Ariadne decided he was ready for the transition to big kid bed. For Ariadne, it was more than just switching out a crib for a bed, it was an opportunity to redecorate the boy's entire room. Miles and his wife offered to keep Ender for an afternoon and let him sleepover while the couple redid it. Just because trying to fiddle with curtain rods, power tools and paint was extremely hard (and dangerous) to do with a toddler under your feet, wanting to help. Wanting a snack. Wanting to play. "So 7 am?" Arthur deduced that was the time Ender would be dropped back off. Ariadne graciously said, "No, no, that's fine. You have to teach early. It's fine, I'm sure Arthur will already be up and Ender and I will probably just go back to bed." Pause. "Thank you for keeping him. I'm sorry it took away your Sunday. I'll get Clarisse or Edith to take him next time, they've been bugging me." _

_Now, Stephen's diction was something Arthur _could _understand over the phone. It wasn't unintelligible gibberish like their toddler's. It was low, even and precise. He heard: "Nonsense, Ariadne, we'll take every minute we can get with our honorary grandchild. We love our boy." That made both parents smile. The Miles' meant a lot to their family. Ariadne's entire immediate family lived in the States scattered through the Carolinas and Virginia. And Arthur's no longer spoke to him. They somewhat opened lines of communication up when it looked like he was leaving dreamshare but wouldn't unblock anything until his retirement was official. Still, there was a rift between them and Arthur so they mostly communicated through Arthur's mother and Ariadne. They accepted pictures and updates about Ender because their grandson couldn't help it that Arthur was (and they sort of suspected Ariadne used to be) a criminal. It hardly felt like family. So to have Stephen and Millie in the same city, bringing over cookies, fawning over the little boy, and inviting them to dinner like parents and grandparents should was comforting. Miles was very close to both Arthur and Ariadne so the fact that he and his wife considered Ender as much their own as James and Philippa choked them up sometimes. "We all love you too."_

"_See you kids in the morning. I may peek in and see what masterpiece your crazy mind has put together." _

"_Ok. Night." She hung up, stuck her cell into the waistband of her sweatpants and fired up the drill. She was making a faux headboard of license plates on the wall. You don't know how many overnight shippings from ebay and visits to car part shops Arthur had to go through to procure enough for her. Arthur propped the finished bedframe against the closet doors next to the mattress and brushed off his ant pajama pants. Yes. They were black pants with brown ants all over them—like ants in your pants—Ender picked them out himself for Arthur's birthday. As Ariadne stood up from picking another license plate out of the box (she was being picky. Choosing the colors carefully for her overall vision. Honestly, while it looked great, they still looked randomly picked to Arthur) her husband proudly announced, "I'm done." _

"_Yay!" remarked the woman distractedly. It was hard to believe they'd been married almost four years and were raising a child. Standing on her tip-toes, stubbornly stretching to reach above her head with a power tool—in her sweatpants, sports bra and messy bun on her head, Ariadne looked exactly like the college student he first met. Except every day she got a little more beautiful. He thought maybe that was because he fell a little more in love with her every day. Ariadne rocked back on her heels and exhaled, looking at the overall appearance with hands on hips. "Ok," she pivoted to face him, "I have a few more of these to do. I've already opened the rug, will you lay that out where the bed is going to be and then put the curtain rods together and hang those? I finished sewing the curtains before dinner; they're in that bag there." Yes. Ariadne sewed Ender's curtains. No one had what she was looking for, so she decided to get her own material and figure it out herself. _

_Arthur playfully complained, a fake grimace on his face, "So much work."_

_Ariadne squinted at him, "Shut up, you love work." To make it better, she coyly sauntered over to him and snaked her arms around his neck, "Besides, I'll love you forever for helping me." _

"_That better be a promise," said he, locking his hands behind her back and pulling her closer. _

"_More like a universal fact," Ariadne quipped back and pecked him on the lips. Arthur wouldn't let her pull away. He took advantage of their positions to chase her lips a second and third time. "Mm, why don't we take a break?" He hummed into her mouth._

_Ariadne pushed him back firmly, "No, no, no. We have a deadline." She turned completely away from him and doggedly resumed hanging license plates. "His room has to be done by morning. Before we go to sleep, really."_

"_Just a few minutes," the man hugged her from behind, "I've missed you."_

_There _was _a hint of bitterness in her: "Don't leave so much." And that was before Arthur got heavy back into dreamshare. He was taking a bunch of reconnaissance jobs and single extractions. He justified them as small favors that were nothing to do. Extra pocket money for Ender's trust fund. They only took him away from three weeks up to two months versus the five and six months he'd start leaving for a year later in their marriage. _

"_Let me make it up to you…" he whispered in her ear. Relishing the absence of a scarf by kissing her exposed neck, "make love to you…" his thumbs fiddled with the waistband of her sweatpants, "the house is empty…mm, you taste good…"_

_From the bite of her lip, Arthur could tell she was struggling against the idea. But she still shook her head and pretended to ignore him, "I can't hear you. I'm in a parallel universe."_

"_Come on," he coaxed, "when are the two of us going to be all alone again?"_

_Ariadne sighed exasperatedly and twisted towards him, "I tell you what. If we can get this done in…" she grabbed his wrist and read his watch, "an hour and a half, we can reward ourselves and make use of our toddler free house." Arthur raised both his eyebrows and made a dash for the curtain rods. Ariadne rolled her eyes and picked on him, "Such a man…" _

Sometimes the happier memories of her made him want to close all the curtains, turn all the lights off and shrivel. Made him want to forget everything about her, them, their life. But sometimes the happier memories made him smile. Made him want to _remember_ everything. From the way her hair shined in the sunlight to the smell of Carmex on her lips during the winter. Remember how much more she talked when she was sick because she liked the sound of the rasp in her voice. How without fail, every night, there'd be an unintentional knee in his back or slap in the face while she wildly slept. He wanted to remember the color of her toothbrush (purple) in the cup next to his and the sound of the padding of her feet on their wood floor. On those rare occasions he wanted to remember, were when his stash of pictures came in handy. When he moved the things from the study, some shelves and file cabinets went in the corner of the living area with his bookcase but most went to his room. The file cabinet full of Ariadne and Ender went in the back of his closet. He found himself there now, opening a drawer and diving his hand in, like a feening man searching for his drugs.

There were some of Ender playing in the rain in a bright green raincoat. When it drizzled Ariadne would take the boy outside and let him jump in the puddles (she jumped in a few herself normally). There was one someone else took of the three of them at the top of the Eiffel. Ender couldn't have been more than one, he didn't have too much hair on his head so they put a cap on him because of the wind up there. There was one of Ariadne asleep sitting up on the couch with a newborn Ender asleep in her arms. Arthur picked up another handful but felt a strange papery material on the bottom of the stack. It fell to the floor amongst a bunch of Ender's second birthday party pictures (which he missed)…half a piece of yellow, legal lined, paper with her handwriting. The last note of hers, her last words to him printed on it. Absentmindedly, he collected the fallen pictures and put everything away save for Ariadne's note.

He fell asleep holding it under his pillow.

**xxxxxxx**

I know…I'm evil. Reunion wasn't really a reunion. But in my defense, ya'll know me, since when have I ever let things be that easy? Arthur magically bumping into and finding them without lifting a finger? Nah. New York is Arthur's go-to like Paris was for Ariadne, if anything, our favorite Architect would avoid New York _like the plague _to keep from seeing him. I guarantee a reunion will definitely eventually happen just not this soon, his caretaking skills need to evolve more. He acts more like he and Chloe are family than he did when she showed up on his doorstep but it still feels like he's babysitting. At least, to me.

I have a plethora of Chloe's outfits (made into three separate collages) so ya'll can picture this kid's wardrobe cause she's out there. I'll pull some description from these outfits off and on throughout the entire story and they'll be there for ongoing reference if anyone gets bored or antsy or curious waiting on an update. All the pictures where you can see the kid's face that's wearing the picture, that kid is Chloe's actual face-claim. The outfit she wears for Kiln time and stuff is based on: ChloeOutfits1, bottom, far right. I also have a pic of Ender's big boy bed that Ariadne and Arthur were working on in the flashback. As always links on my profile.

**P.S.** I went back through ALL of my 'Story Elaboration' links and made the format cleaner and less confusing. No more copy and pasting into browser. Just straight links from the title of elaboration. It looks and works 10x better. So if the clutter of the page ever overwhelmed you and made you steer clear of them, fear not, its fixed!


	8. Butter Mints

_Lauraa-x: _Yay for better links, right? She really is an outstanding little kid. Arthur's not going to want to let her go back home ;) _ThePinkArcher: _He's a good parental figure, he was just never home enough with Ender to exercise that skill. I root more for Ari than Sydney too. Any day. Love love love that your loving Chloe more and more. That'd what I was hoping. _Coffeebean: _Hahaha sorry. Your analysis of what the flashbacks show is dead on. Happy you're getting the feels from this. And don't worry I will take my time lol. Thanks for taking your time to review by the way. _Neverlandspirit: _Oh, I love Ariadne too much, you're right. We just haven't seen her with Ender (besides flashbacks) like we've seen Arthur with Chloe.

**Chapter 8: Butter Mints**

Arthur was late to pick her up Thursday. He blamed it on the taxi. The cabby took him the long way around to rack up the extra bucks and thought the man wouldn't take note. He should've gotten out and walked but alas he chose to check his watch every two minutes and call the studio to inform them of his incompetent driver so Chloe wouldn't worry as she had the first (and only!) time he was late. The waiting area was extraordinarily thinned out. The dancers who were staying in the dorms had already been escorted back with their chaperones and a bunch of children had already been picked up. A few stragglers waited as their little girls picked up terminology packets from the front desk and stuck their shoes on. It was both the clearest and the quietest Arthur had seen the establishment. But where was his niece? All of her stuff sat in her cubby, her rain boots under the bench, but no Tiny Talesco in sight. With furrowed eyebrows, Arthur walked the room over and peered into the back seeing if she was at the water fountain or if perhaps in the bathroom. The area was empty and both bathroom doors wide open. Besides the fact they knew he was on his way, they had to sign each child out…it wasn't possible she could've accidentally left with someone. Maybe with Linny and Emma to pick up their pottery together? No, she wouldn't do that without permission. And especially not without leaving word or taking her things. The lady at the front desk (Ms. Baublit) came back to her post from the administrative office and spotted Arthur, "Are you looking for Chloe?"

"Yes ma'am."

She smiled, "She's still in there with Ms. Willes and Katerina." Arthur gave a cursory glance towards the studio. Ms. Baublit encouraged, "You can go in. They were just working on a few things until you got here."

He felt awkward doing so but he poked his head in. Katerina was one of the teen dancers, fourteen or fifteen maybe, and she was on the floor with Chloe giving her pointers. Chloe was in arabesque—to Arthur though it just looked like she was balancing on one straight leg with the other 90 degrees behind her—and Katerina was standing behind her, "Turn your hip out but keep your chest squared and your core engaged." She fixed her position, "Like that. That's going to help when you fuette your leg. Try again." Chloe came down and went to a tendu position, arms in first. "Shoulders back as you plie," Ms. Willes, one of the instructors sounded and Arthur realized she was standing right by the doorway at the mirror. She noticed him and ushered him in, "You must be Chloe's uncle." He politely confirmed. "She talks about you non-stop."

Arthur stepped in with his hands in his pockets, "In a good way, I hope."

"Think of it as a pique," Ms. Willes suggested to the dancer instead of answering Arthur back. "Very close, try again. Katerina, it's something to do with her arms. Watch them for me."

He wondered if there was some reason Chloe needed extra time? Was she having difficulties? Maybe he could get a tutor or something between now and the auditions. (So 16 hours, Arthur? That won't help). "I'm not too familiar with the world of dance so forgive me if it's bad form to ask. But how is she doing? Is she falling behind?"

Ms. Willes' head moved and bobbed along as she watched Chloe's movements, as if she was doing them with her in her head, "Chloe? Oh no, Chloe is doing brilliantly. She's one of our best students." Then she critiqued the child, "Hold it, hold it! Very Good. Katerina, _fix her arms_."

"Good," interjected the Uncle, "Dance is very important to her. I'm glad she's excelling."

"I'll tell you, Mr. Talesco, Chloe is a natural." Arthur appreciated speaking with dance instructors. They engaged in conversation without _engaging_ in the conversation. He didn't have to worry about being sociable or seeming invested in the other person's thoughts—they both visually ignored each other for favor of watching Chloe the entire time. "And she doesn't take that for granted. I see a lot of kids who are born with it, who think that because they have a knack for it, they don't have to work hard—but not that little girl. If anything she works harder."

Arthur didn't smile. On the outside anyways. Ms. Willes' point was proven as Chloe huffed. She'd done her fuette arabesque correctly but hadn't been able to balance as long as she would've liked. Immediately, she reset her stance and asked Katerina to study her preparation to see if that was the problem. Katerina told her it was nice and reminded her that it was ok if she rocked backwards because it flowed into her emboites and could be hidden. The kid was stubborn though. "Perfectionists run in our family," explained Arthur.

Ms. Willes' peered at Chloe's arms while continuing, "She also has an incredible passion for the art, for someone so young. She's driven. She listens closely not only to her corrections but everyone else's and applies them. The entire faculty loves her." Distractedly, she left the mirror and approached the two dancers, "I know what it is. Instead of going straight from first to first-arabesque, move your arms through fifth." She demonstrated for Chloe and then returned to her spot at the mirror, speaking a little more hushed, "We're not supposed to have favorites. But I'm pulling for her for the bluebird."

Just then, the little girl fuetted and held her position. And held it and held it and held it…it was impressive, Chloe balancing on the balls of one foot like that, the other leg raised behind her. Bet many of the mechanics of ballet have something to do with physics and aerodynamics, maybe even geometry thought Arthur. Made the art take on a whole new interesting light for him. Ms. Willes praised, "Brava, Chloe. That's it!" And Katerina clapped, "You got it!"

"Yay!" Chloe happily laughed and decided to come down. They all thought she was done for day until she reset her position and determinedly bit her lip, "Now I should do it again and make sure I didn't get lucky."

_That's _when Arthur cracked a grin.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"No you can't look yet," Chloe hunched over, hiding the mug she made him with her body. If she wasn't careful she'd drop it and shatter the thing she was vying to protect on the tile of their kitchen.

"Why not?" They promised not to look at what they made for each other until they were back at the penthouse. Even had the pottery place wrap both items in gift tissue and place it in a box. But…Arthur nodded to the unicorn figurine that sat primly on the counter, "You've seen yours." Chloe opened hers as soon as they got back while Arthur was pouring them both some water. It turned out well. After baking, the pottery took on a glossy sheen and the bright pink he'd chosen really popped against his dark granite countertops. He was proud of his handiwork, though he'd never admit it out loud. Ariadne would've most likely been proud over the ceramic statuette too—after having to pull teeth to get Arthur to paint with any color that wasn't neutral when he took her on a painting excursion at Vincent Van Gogh's house on one of their family trips. She'd probably tease him about the phosphorescent pink, dainty polka dots and glitter but be secretly delighted it wasn't all black and tan and grey.

"Yes and Lola Mae Seraphinacorn is the prettiest pony I've ever seen but…" She lobbed behind the island and stood up, holding the mug down by the cabinets, "I want to put coffee in your mug before you see it."

Maybe she should've said that before he paid for wrapping it up. And why did she ask him what color tissue paper he wanted wrapped around his if he wasn't even the one who opened it? Strange kid. But really would she be his loveable little Chloe if she wasn't strange? Arthur sardonically raised his eyebrows at her, "Do you know to make coffee?"

His niece copied and sardonically raised hers back, adding a tilt of her head and lift of her right shoulder. It was creepy how much she looked like Arthur and Greg when she did that. "Do you have a Keurig?"

His head jutted in the appropriate direction, "In the cabinet under the sink." Arthur took it out and put it back up every time he used it which was usually in the morning before she woke up or at night while she was busy reading or something. As much as he used it, it would've been more convenient if he left it out but he liked keeping all of his counters free of clutter. All small appliances like blenders, toasters , etc. were tucked away after use and the larger appliances like the fridge, stove, etc. were polished every night after dinner. (He used a special cleaner for glass stove tops and granite). Chloe helped polish everything a few times but didn't get nearly as excited about seeing her reflection in everything the third time around. Not like Uncle Arthur who got extremely happy _every single time. _Chloe liked cleanliness and a fair share of organization but she wasn't your average Talesco neat freak. She'd inherited more of her mom than her dad in that respect. Anyways, she grinned at her uncle and shooed him off with one hand, "Then I can make coffee."

"It might be heavy for you…" he took some (discouraged by the child) steps forward to get it out for her but Chloe doubled back over to shield the mug and pushed at him with her shoulder, "No! Go, go!"

Arthur feigned a sigh, exaggeratedly, "I prefer Original Blend," and strolled out of the kitchen.

"I know," she answered. Hurriedly (but _carefully_) placing the mug on the counter and diving for the cabinet where the Keurig machine was. Original was the only kind he had in the pantry. It wasn't that hard to guess that's the kind he'd want. As she plugged it in, he called from a room over, "No creamers, one sugar!"

Arthur heard the scrape of a stool being dragged along the floor. She needed it in the pantry to reach the shelf he kept his coffee on. There was an unmistakable squeak that came with her standing on top of it. "I know!" Chloe called back.

"Sugar In The Raw not Splenda!" She watched him stir his one packet in every morning at the table. Sometimes when she had chocolate or pink milk they added to and stirred their morning beverages together (and she'd ask for a mug just like his. 'Too keep it cold like it keeps yours hot' she articulated.). So of course she was aware what he put in, Arthur just found it amusing to pull her leg.

"I know!"

He smirked, taking his shoes off and lining them by the door of his room to put away later, "And wash the mug out before you put anything in it."

"I _know_, Uncle Arthur!" yelled Chloe exasperatedly. Children could get annoying…but so could adults.

He sat on the couch and turned the tv on for noise but mostly just listened to the trickle of the coffee machine and her (what she thought was mice-like quiet) clanging. The water from the faucet rushed on then shut off. The stool made that obnoxious scraping sound again. There was tiny tinkling of a spoon and then Arthur was granted permission to come back and see it. Chloe creatively spread the red tissue paper the mug was wrapped in underneath it like a napkin. The mug was completely suited for Arthur—literally. It was painted black with added lapels, a painted blue collared shirt and red tie. The handle was painted to look like a sleeve, with the cuff of the shirt showing and sort of a fist where it connected at the bottom like the hand was on the mug's hip. Arthur laughed. It was very well done. It actually looked better done than Arthur's. By the handle, he rotated it around. The back was all black with a large red '#1' on it. "Tada! You're 'mon numero un'—that's French for 'my number one'." Her and her random facts… "In Spanish it's uno…"

"This is excellent, Tiny." The Point brought it up to his lips and drank the coffee with a pleasant hum. Not too bad. It tasted uncannily like it did that morning. And every other morning. Probably due to the fact that the Keurig did most of the work. "Mm, thank you. I love it."

xxxxxxx

It couldn't have been more than two hours after Arthur went to bed when his eyes blinked back open. On his back, both hands clutching that note of Ariadne's under his pillow. Still in his suit, still on top of the covers of his bed. He decided to use the bathroom, then change and get comfortably in bed. As he was pulling the comforter back, his ears picked up on a light thumping in the distance. Like feet jumping on the wood flooring. Was Chloe up? Or was someone trying to get in…? Curiously, he headed down the hallway and sure enough the light of her lamp was peeking through the crack of her door. He could hear the jumping (and some classical music) loud and clear. Arthur pushed the door ajar, "Chloe, what are you doing?"

Technically, she was doing a combination of echappes and changements while reading a packet of paper in front of her. But she answered generically, "Practicing. There's gonna be a small interview in our audition and I want to make sure I know all the terms."

Two hours ago she was passed out like a sack of potatoes. He could've dropped her from a plane in the middle of a hurricane (he never would though of course) and she wouldn't have been the wiser. Now she was bouncing like that tiger from Winnie the Pooh—what was it, Tipper? Tibber? Tigger. Arthur glanced at the clock. "You should be in bed. Auditions are very early tomorrow."

She landed in fourth with a flourish and then scurried to her desk for a sip of water. "So I won't have time to practice in the morning." She put a check next to the two terms on the sheet. Now, Arthur remembered him and his brother staying up late to study for tests and quizzes (Mostly because they were punished for anything below an A and therefore learned rigorous study habits by first grade) so he wasn't faulting her for her ambition or dedication. On the other hand, she was eight, it was midnight and being exhausted in the morning would do nothing for her. The Uncle asserted, "Chloe. It's too late. Get into bed please."

"But—"

"I mean it," stated the man steadfastly. The father in him coming out and shining through to his uncle responsibilities.

Chloe hung her head (Oh Brother, that wasn't supposed to make him feel bad) and obediently switched the music off. She crawled into her bed and sulkily hugged Emmett. Arthur went to switch the lamp off as his eyes grazed over her terminology packet. He knew what it felt like to be so worried over something that you couldn't sleep. And he knew how much this part meant to Chloe, how much she wanted to do well. She'd be thinking about it instead of sleeping anyway…

Instead of turning the lamp off and leaving like Chloe expected, Uncle Arthur pulled a chair over beside her bed with the list in hand and asked with finger skimming down the page, "Ok, tell me the difference between coupe and coup de pied."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

The day of auditions was finally there and Chloe was up at the crack of dawn. Before Arthur. What woke the Point Man was the sound of a symphony blasting from his living room. He recognized the melody straight away because his niece hummed the damn thing nonstop and it was usually playing as the guardians picked the kids up. In a bit of disbelief that the child could already be up at five thirty am after they both went to bed around 1, Arthur first opened his curtains to check if it was really that dark outside and then trudged into the living area. There, dressed in pink tights and black leo with hair uncombed and flying everywhere was Chloe practicing her variation. Nimbly avoiding the furniture, marking some of her larger moves and smiling, performing for the couch—or rather, Penny, Emmett, Julie and her Lalaloopsy dolls who were sitting on the couch.

True, they had to be at the studio earlier that day. Auditions weren't only for the students attending the summer intensive but for the entire Ballet Corp interested in performing main roles in the showcase. Usually it took months of preparation for one of the company's shows but since this was a Summer production for charity, the schedule was tighter. They projected the auditions to run late into the evening and wanted to begin with the intensive students first to get the children out at a decent time. Auditions started promptly at eight (so an hour earlier than normal class time) and on top of that they needed to get there thirty minutes early at the absolute latest. Arthur preferred to be there an hour ahead so Chloe could sign in, receive her number and warm up without feeling too rushed. Even still, at five am, they didn't have to leave for another hour and a half.

Arthur watched her complete the dance and then clapped from behind the couch. Chloe hadn't even noticed him. She looked up startled and then smiled, "You're up already too?"

"Kind of hard not to be with an orchestra playing in our living room," he joked with squinty eyes.

The little girl knew he was kidding but grimaced at turned it down as the track repeated itself, "Sorry. I'm used to it being a lot louder in the studio so I thought it was quiet enough." When her back was turned, she let herself beam her pearly whites. Uncle Arthur said '_our' _living room.

Arthur shook his head, "Don't worry about it. Tchaikovsky is not the worst in the world to wake up to." Even though he could do without it sounding like the man himself was standing with the conductor's wand on top of their coffee table. "Keep practicing; I'll get dressed and then do your bun." She nodded, started the music over and hit her opening position.

He spent a tad longer on her bun because it needed to be absolutely perfect for auditions. No wispies or stray hairs. She couldn't even have the little curls around her face that coiled up when it was humid or when she sweat; the instructors for the intensive didn't mind for class but today, dress rehearsal and the show would all have stricter guidelines. For that reason, she wasn't allowed to wear a hair bow in her hair. Never fear, Chloe made up for that loss of individuality in the outfit she wore over it: yellow polka dot leggings, orange and dark pink floral dress with ruffles at the top and a long pink blazer (even though it was too hot for it outside) with her orange and pink flats. Chloe always turned heads on the street in her phosphorescent get ups and all the kids, parents and teachers at the studio thought her style was adorable. Arthur had to hand it to her, she made mix-match work. Confidence not only in her personality but in freely expressing it without caring about being judged was a quality Arthur hoped she kept, so he kept all comments about her choices positive…they were all right anyway, the kid was adorable. Chloe wasn't very hungry before they left so she did barre work at the counter while the Point Man ate. Arthur had an inkling that it was because of how early it was so he brought a container of sliced apples and peanut butter and a bag of pretzels in case she needed to munch throughout the morning.

They walked to avoid vehicle traffic and hand in hand, crossed the street. "Are you nervous?" Arthur tilted his chin down and asked above the roar of the road and honking taxis.

"Nope!" Chin up, Chloe shook her head proudly, "I'm just excited! I hope I see a Prima!" Then like a switch, she panicked, "Oh no! I forgot my camera!"

Arthur grinned and patted the bag hanging across his shoulders, "No, I grabbed it. It's in my satchel."

xxxxxxx

They met in a different part of the building than the girls were normally dropped off at—one of the upstairs studios that the company rehearsed in. Surprise, surprise, besides the administrator, instructors and judges, Arthur and Chloe were the first to arrive. But it wasn't more than two minutes before others began filing in. Numbers were predetermined the day before by their groups for adagio. The age range for their entire set of junior auditions was eight to eleven but each individual group had a variation of those ages. They weren't auditioning just eight year olds then nine years olds and so on—which Arthur thought was unfair. Chloe acted right at home, however. She found a cozy spot on a bench and put their stuff down while her Uncle signed her in and got her number. They were auditioning four children at a time and Chloe was number twenty-one so that put her in group five. Plenty of time for her to warm up and mentally prepare herself (and eat a little something if Arthur could persuade her). The man sat on the bench and had Chloe stand in front of him so he could pin on her number. "Stand still, child," he was forced to reprimand as she ran through the dance in her head, using her arms.

Chloe stilled and bit the inside of her cheek and impatiently bounced her right heel, "I'm trying."

"Ms. Baublit gave me a sheet of what to expect," at long last he got the hang of the tiny metal contraption known as a safety pin and then pulled a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket, "Why don't you read through that and your terminology list?"

The little girl took both sets of paper eagerly and sat in one of her stretches on the floor while she went over them. They sort of went over all of the aspects of the audition in class the day before but seeing it listed on paper so concretely made it a tad overwhelming. First, her group would go in and stand in a line in numerical order. One by one they would conduct a brief interview with each child. Then all the girls would stand in first and then fifth position so the judges could analyze their posture, placement and turn out. Next, they'd hold tendu so the arch and bevel of their feet could be inspected. They'd balance in sous-sous so the instructors could look at the height of their releves. After that they would show all three splits for their flexibility to be determined, then a pique turn and chaine combination across the floor and then a demonstration of each girl's grand jetes. _Finally_ they would perform the variation they learned in class twice, rotating which two dancers were in the front each time. It was an awful lot to worry about perfection for…

The judges came into the lobby and were introduced to all the little girls and parents by one of the girls' intensive instructors. They thanked everyone for coming, explained the nature of the day and when results could be expected and then ushered the first group in. To Arthur's pleasant surprise, Chloe was calm as a cucumber. A cucumber on Xanax actually. She stretched, did some jumps in place and plugged earphones into the iPad he bought her so she could listen to the music. The Point even successfully coaxed her into eating her bag of apples as they waited. The other little girls were doing the same things Chloe was doing in preparation albeit a lot of their guardians were hounding them about eight counts and the shape of their arms—Arthur just let Chloe do her thing, he knew little about ballet.

He knew _little_ about ballet…The man spent his wait reading up about ballet on google so he could be properly versed. Arthur didn't like having weaknesses in knowledge.

Before they knew it, the time came. The music for the variation played signaling that the group before Chloe's was almost done and her group needed to line up at the door. She had long rid of her dress and patterned leggings over her dance clothes, traded her bright flats for her pale pink ballet shoes. Chloe let Arthur last minute comb and hairspray the stray hairs that sprung up during their commute and wait. The little one halfway expected a hug on this occasion but her Uncle Arthur just squeezed her shoulders and bolstered, "Good luck." She nodded and skipped happily off to meet the rest of her group at the door. Arthur shook his head in amusement and went back to his virtual reading material.

Chloe was fine until the moment was there. Until she was standing with three other girls who were older and taller and talking about other auditions they'd been to. Other parts they'd gotten. One of them had been the bluebird in her hometown Corps de Ballet's spring production! The music rolled over, signaling the second and final time the group before them would perform their variation. Chloe felt sick and a little warm and a little like she might pee her pants. She asked the lady at the door if she had time to run to the potty—she did but she had to hurry.

A smallish figure came to stand in front of Arthur. He knew it was his niece (most likely) but was still thrown off by the panicked look, tense shoulders and teary eyes. He put his phone down and regarded her with concern, "Chlo, what's wrong?"

The child wrung her hands together, "I can't do it."

Arthur reared back. He never thought he'd hear that sentence come out of his niece's mouth. She was brave and determined…she was a lot of things but she was no quitter especially taking it into account that she was a Talesco. "What do you mean? Of course you can."

"What if I forget the combination?" Her eyes widened, "I don't think I know it well enough…"

The child had to be kidding. Arthur gently argued, "You know the dance backwards, forwards and in your sleep." It was true in the literal sense. Sometimes during the night after he got a glass of water or sometimes in the morning while he was drinking his coffee he would check on the sleeping girl and he swore she was doing the dance in her sleep. Her feet twitched, at times her arms moved and made shapes. Besides that, she was always doing it. In her seat in the car, in every establishment they went into, in the elevator, in the kitchen, the living room, her room. "You practice it so much,_ I_ almost know it."

"Hey 21, they're almost done," one of the older kids in her group called to her. The younger kids (eight and nine year olds) were in the same intensive class rotation as the older (ten and eleven) but many of them didn't bother to learn the younger one's names. Chloe was called out often so it was strange they hadn't remembered hearing who she was. (They probably did, just didn't acknowledge because they didn't want an eight year old thinking she was a threat).

Chloe acknowledged them, then looked back at her uncle even more panicked than before. She started shaking her hands like she was trying to fling water off of them, "I'm up against eleven year olds, Uncle Arthur. I'm only eight!"

"_And a half_." He reminded.

"I don't have a chance…"

"Look at me," Arthur took her hands and made them stop. "You're the bravest little girl I know. You can do this. Don't think of it as a competition," he dropped her small hands in favor of taking her shoulders and squaring her towards him, "You love to perform, just go in there and do your best. Have fun. Smile. You're a beautiful dancer, you have nothing to worry about."

The music stopped. The other members of Chloe's group started anxiously gesturing at her to hurry up and come on. Chloe bit her lip, "I just want it so bad. What if I don't get it?"

"Then you don't get it…" No use in lying to her, right? But he was gentle with his let down, "but that doesn't mean this wasn't a great experience. You'll still have all these new friends. You'll still be able to do a group dance with your class on the real ABT stage, you'll still be a great little ballerina and I'll still be very proud of you."

That made her grin wide, "You'll be proud?"

"No matter what." Arthur's attention was grabbed by the door of the studio opening and the other group of little girls filing out. He hoped Chloe wouldn't notice her friend Linny crying her eyes out as she went in. He swallowed and patted her arm, "Now get in there before they start; I'll be right here when you get out and you can tell me all about how it went."

When Chloe went in, as the girls were lining up in numerical order and the judges were shuffling their score sheets, getting ready to judge the next set of dancers, Chloe thought back to her mom and another time she was super nervous.

_Chloe's feet were peddling relatively slow. Around her shoulders were her mom's arms, keeping a grip on the handlebars and helping Chloe not only steer but stay balanced. Her sunny yellow bike was stripped of its training wheels thirty minutes prior. They let her add multicolor spoke decorations to keep the focus more on adding something to her bike than taking something away and they jingled every time her wheels made rotations. A supportive male voice encouraged from behind them, "You've got this, Chlo!" Her helmet was itchy and her hands a little sweaty but she was getting the hang of it. It was easy to feel safe and confident with a mommy like hers guiding her but then—"Ok, I'm going to let go." _

_She panicked and wanted to brake but forgot how to do that in her abrupt fright. It was the kind of bike where she could just back-pedal and her cycle would screech to a halt. Easy. But her feet were confused and would only push forwards. "No, Mommy!"_

"_Open your eyes, Birdie" coaxed the woman. The six year old version of Chloe didn't even realize her eyes were shut, much less so tight. Obediently, she peeked them open and listened to: "I know you're nervous but I wouldn't let go if I didn't think you'd be ok. You can do it." Her mom smiled that warm, compassionate, million watt smile._

_Chloe rushed words out of her mouth like vomit, afraid her mom would let go before she could speak, "But what if I fall!" Chloe felt a kiss on her temple and though she was too scared straight to look at anything but the sidewalk in front of her, could imagine her mommy's soothing brown eyes. "Oh, but Sweetheart, what if you _fly?_"_

_The small girl remembered her heart beating a mile a minute, remembered feeling a little sick. But she could feel the wind sort of blow through her hair and sweep across her face and world on either side flashing by…Mommy was right. (She was always right. She was the smartest lady ever). It felt like she was flying. Gliding down the sidewalk. Only when she looked at her hands did she notice her mom's were absent from the handlebars. And she was doing it! She was really doing it! All by herself! _

This was just like that. And she could almost feel her mom's kiss on her temple.

Xxxxxxxx

Because of the stress of her audition day and her attempt to stay up until midnight for the results, Arthur let Chloe deservedly sleep in. It was almost eleven am when all of a sudden Arthur heard her cracked door swing open. Chloe slid on her red elephant slippers into the hallway, nearly tripping on the trunks and falling in her haste. Her yellow nightgown was all wrinkled and her hair (which hadn't been completely taken down from her bun the night prior) was messy. She had Penny tucked under one arm and held hands with Emmett on the other side. "I fell asleep! Is it up yet?!" Arthur could tell she was still half asleep. Like when you sleep through your alarm and realize you're probably an hour or so late for class. You hop up and scramble out of bed only half conscious, throw clothes on in a haze and sprint into the living room only for someone to tell you, 'It's Saturday'. Chloe had a combination of fear and excitement on her face paired with droopy eyes. Arthur couldn't let her suffer too long. He smiled from his spot on the couch, "Good Morning, Bluebird."

She went from practically falling on her face to bright eyed and gaping mouth. Her stuffed animals dropped to the ground in her shock, "I got it?"

"You got it!" Arthur pulled the tab up on his laptop and gestured her over, "Come look."

Chloe scrabbled over and jumped onto the sofa, putting her head in front of Arthur's to see. Her finger ran down (not touching the screen of course, she knew better) until she found the character's name, "Girl Bluebird: Number 21." She gasped and pointed to herself, "That's me!" He wasn't particularly keen on it but he let her bounce on her knees on the cushion next to him. Chloe was beside herself in delight, he didn't want to dampen her victory by scolding her about the furniture. "That's my number!" she repeated and hopped off to slip and slide back to her fallen stuffed friends. "I'm the bluebird Penny! Aren't you proud? I'm the bluebird! I'm the bluebird!"

"I told you, you had nothing to worry about," Arthur snickered at her while she danced in circles with Penny and Emmett.

Her uncle sat his computer down on the table and stood, "Come into the kitchen; I made you a congratulatory brunch…" Chloe agreed to but continued to twirl in joyous circles. Arthur added with a sing song voice, "And I have a present…"

"Present?" froze the child. Like a dog who'd just seen a squirrel. Obediently, she followed him to the kitchen and saw a beautifully blue decorated breakfast table. There were bunches of blue balloons on either side. He'd made them fluffy blue waffles paired with a small cup of blueberries and a yummy looking light blue milkshake. In the middle of the table sat a smallish, round, white and light blue flowered box with a big royal blue bow on the top. She jumped up and down and squealed then dashed away for what Arthur could only guess was for her camera. Sure enough when she came back, she documented everything thoroughly. Arthur had to urge her, "Go on, eat."

The little girl did. She hungrily shoveled the food in. Ate her waffle without cutting it up, dumped a handful of berries into her mouth and slurped her milkshake like she was a starving kid off the street and the food was going to disappear any second. "I said eat, not inhale, Chloe," Arthur reminded her, having barely cut up his first waffle in the time it took her to get to her second.

"Sorry," she smiled after swallowing and did her best to slow down. Chloe was just super anxious to open the pretty box that sat _right there _tempting her.

Arthur made her wait until they were both finished. Then, as he took their plates to the sink, he scooted he present in front of her and gave her the go ahead. She had a picture to remember it by but she still hesitated because the package was too pretty to mess up despite being ready to tear it open like an animal a few minutes ago. The ribbon was slowly unfurled and the lid ever so carefully removed. The tissue was neatly folded back and then she could see a few of the items. On top was a keychain for her to put on her backpack. One of those angry birds except it was blue. It was sitting atop a blue birdy sleep mask that had a beak and eyelashes and lots of glitter. Giggling, Chloe put it on and sat it on her forehead before going back to the box. Last was what looked like a hand-knitted toboggan type hat—a bluebird obviously. She put that on too and then stuck her finger through the key ring and posed, "How does my outfit look?"

Arthur smirked, "You've got a lot going on." Between the yellow nightgown, the red elephant slippers and all her bluebird gear, she looked like a hot mess. A very endearing hot mess though. "There's something else in the box."

When she looked again, sure enough there was an envelope she missed. Inside were two, "Tickets?" her eyebrows furrowed, "to my show?" Arthur merely smiled. Chloe pulled one of them out all the way and went pale as she read the title, "ANNIE! We're going to see ANNIE ON BROADWAY?! When?"

"Tonight," he pointed at the ticket because the time, place and everything was printed on it if she was curious. Which he knew she was.

The pitch of her next cheerful squeal was so high Arthur was surprised all the glass in the penthouse didn't shatter. He winced as a result but only for a few seconds and then his dimples were back. Chloe took his hands and bounced on her chair (which he let slide, just this once), "This is the best day ever! Thank you!"

**Xxxxxxxx**

"Okay, Tiny Talesco," Arthur's voice rang through the house. He stood in the living room adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves. It was broadway, so naturally Arthur was in a three piece black pinstripe, with stark white button up and hunter green tie. "Are you about ready to go? We'll have about an hour or so to eat if we can leave now."

"Coming!" she shrilled and skipped into the living area. Chloe thankfully brought a few, nice, outfits to New York. It was on all the dancers' list to bring at least one pretty dress for the cast party after their Showcase and maybe one more for their field trip day (just before their own showcase, they were going to visit Radio City Music Hall for a tour and then get to see a show performed). Being Chloe, however, she brought _several_ options. For Annie, she was dressed in a full, satin, royal blue dress with a sash tied (messily knotted) in the back. She had black flats to go with it and get this—a top hat. Arthur chuckled (and melted) at the sight of the dapper pint-sized fashionista. Said fashionista looked perplexed, "I can't decide whether I should take Emmett or Julie or Penny."

While folding his collar he reasoned, a bit of feigned pity for the stuffed monkey, "Emmett _i_s wearing an M&M t-shirt; he may be a little underdressed for the occasion." He gave the doll a once over, "And I'm not sure Julie's fringe and tie-dye are formal enough either."

"You're right," she scurried to put them back on her bed and emerged with the trusty stuffed Elephant, one of Chloe's pink hairbows now pinned to one of its ears and one of her elastic pink bracelets around one of its legs. It looked snug (Like the stuffing was going to be squeezed out or the bracelet was going to pop) but at least it wouldn't fall off and get lost.

"Come here, let me fix your sash," Arthur knelt down as Chloe sashayed to him and turned around. Arthur was very good at tying bows. He made sure hers was perfect and then stood. On Chloe's instruction, they checked for smiles and then went out the door hand in hand. The doorman Max had fallen in love with the child as well. Every morning as they left for dance, he'd enthusiastically comment on her ensemble for the day (he and Arthur got a kick out of some of her getups) and every evening when they came back in, he gave her a handful of the mints they kept at his post—the good kind too. Like the fluffy, round, red and white ones. Uncle Arthur called them butter mints but Chloe never tasted the butter. They had very philosophical conversations as Arthur and Chloe waited for the elevator too. For instance, one afternoon Max was reading a book of Latin phrases for one of his night classes. Chloe saw the cover and said, "Per ardua ad astra." Both Max and Arthur gave her a strange look. She shrugged, "It means 'through adversity to the stars'. It's the motto of the British Royal Navy."

Anyways, as they were walking out, Max's shift was over, "You guys look nice…going somewhere fancy?"

Chloe grinned, "Broadway! Uncle Arthur's taking me for getting the role I wanted!"

"No way, you got the Bluebird?"

Arthur patted her top hat and she nodded enthusiastically. Max grabbed a bunch of mints and handed them to her, "That deserves some extra mints, I think."

"Thanks Mr. Max. I'll bring you back a souvenir."

There was too much traffic to drive especially at six in the evening in New York. It was ridiculous. Because the show started at eight and they wanted a decent amount of time to grab dinner and get to the theater without rushing, Arthur decided that the easiest and fastest way to do that was to go on foot and take the subway closer to Broadway. Chloe and her elephant were up for whatever. As they trotted down the steps into the underground Arthur opened his palm and instructed, "Hold onto my hand. It's crowded down here."

Chloe happily did so. The child was all smiles amidst the grunge. As Arthur was reading signs and pulling her along, she waved to a nice man playing the xylophone and then one on a bagpipe a little farther down. She tossed both of them a mint and a thumbs up. After they went through the turnstiles together, Arthur's grip got tighter. Realizing that the one they needed to take had just pulled in, the Point Man lightly shook her hand to get her attention and then hurried her along, "Come on. Let's catch that one so we don't have to wait for another." The little girl picked up her pace, hugging her Uncle Arthur's arm with both of hers as all kinds of people flooded the platform and were pushing and pulling from all sides. It seemed like they were swimming through a sea of speedy bodies but the man dexterously cut through to get onto the subway car. An older woman bumped her pretty hard as she stepped off and Chloe stepped on but it was ok cause Chloe was sure she probably didn't mean to. The car was uncomfortably full and there was nowhere to sit. Arthur removed his arm from her grip and put it on her shoulder to guide her in front of him to one of the upright bars, "Alright grab onto the rail."

She obeyed but had to say, "I know, I know."

There was a sweet looking older woman with a group of her friends, tourists by the looks of them, who had a few shopping bags squeezed between herself and the wall in one of the corner seats. Chloe could easily squash into that space. He'd rather her sit than worry about her holding on tight enough and the germs she could pick up plus they still had to walk to dinner and the theater and he was afraid her feet would start hurting. "Excuse me," he politely smiled.

Chloe grasped the rail with both hands a little ways under where Arthur's hand was wrapped around. The ladies standing in front of them were dressed kinda funny. They all matched. White shorts and the same pink t-shirt that stated they were there for someone's fiftieth birthday. Wait. Back up. Both hands? She shouldn't have both hands free! She looked down at her feet and peered through people standing in the car to search for her stuffed elephant. "Penny?" She must've dropped her! Oh no!

"Yes?" the woman clutched her bags tighter and acknowledged Arthur who smoothly pitched his request, "I don't mean to bother you," he flexed his hand as a friendly gesture and tilted his head. Threw some dimples in, "but is there room next to you for my niece? It's quite a ride to our destination." He eyed her bags a little less than subtly.

The woman—who might have had grandchildren and understood—kindly moved her bags and enthusiastically agreed, "Sure honey. We can squeeze." The doors closed. Excellent, the child could sit just in time before the car started moving. His 'thank you' was sincere. He glanced down at his niece, "Chloe you can—" yet she wasn't there beside him. Impossible. His stomach dropped as he stood taller to look over heads and maneuvered through the other people standing to see where she moved to, "Chloe?" Arthur's eyes cut to the doors and five thousand sharp needles of fear pierced his body. Through the window, he saw the tip of her top hat. The little girl was bent down to pick up her stuffed animal halfway down the platform, "Chloe?!" Arthur lunged to pry the doors open at the same moment Chloe turned to him with Penny under her arm and the vehicle jolted into movement. He ran through the different cars to keep his eyes on her through the windows, "Chloe! Stay—" but the subway ultimately outran him and the last thing he saw before the tunnel cut him off was his niece's huge round eyes filled with horror.

xxxxxxx

Uh oh…just what Arthur needs…to lose his niece too. His parents might kill him if he does.

Got the bluebird brunch, C's yellow nightgown and outfit for Annie linked on the profile! See you guys real soon!


	9. Arthurnaut, Kirrhh

Hello lovelies! Sorry about the delay. Long wait this time. My dog actually chewed through my laptop charger and when I woke up: dead computer. No way to charge. Long story short I had to order a new charger and wait for it to come in (overnighting it added forty freakin dollars to the plate) and it pushed my update time back. Good news, regular-ish updating will resume.

_Neverlandspirit: _yes he is! He's so sweet. What did I do? Nothing! It's penny's fault! Haha. _Lauraa-x: _Or maybe he'll be like 'Yes, I'm kid free' and go cry in a corner over Ariadne and Ender…no. I'd never. I know the holding hands is so cute, he's really becoming a good guardian. Yay! Glad you loved that chapter that much! Yes hopefully Arthur's parents don't have track him down and nix him. _Coffeebean: _I know! Bittersweet day. Yeah, you're absolutely right. It's a slippery slope here. Adopting her and becoming her legal guardian/uncle-dad would be great but then again…maybe he should be a father to his son before taking on another child. That just seems like the right thing to do. Once he gets his responsibilities as father (and maybe hopefully husband again) taken care of bringing Chloe into their family would be a snazzy idea. _Bookwormgirl: _I absolutely loved that you reviewed! Lol, here's your update!

_EkatDaughterOfHestia_ and _SafetyNotGuaranteed _thanks for adding the story to your follow list! And _Robin Renshaw _I'm honored to be considered one of your favorite authors. Thank you!

**Chapter 9: Arthurnaut, Kirrhh.**

The crowds were thinned out compared to before due to the departure of the train but people were continuously filing in to wait for the next. Other trains were stopping and letting people off. Maybe it wasn't an ocean of strangers but it was still a sea and they passed so determined and hurried that they blurred into something akin to a watercolor. All their voices—on cell phones, to each other, to themselves—bounced off the walls, audibly tripling their number. A lady in a red dress with a purse the size of Chloe's head marched past and ignorantly knocked the little girl with it. Chloe tensed and clutched Penny as tight as she could to her chest, "Oh no. Penny, what do we do?" She was frozen in her spot, watching the heads pass. Faces with smiles, with frowns, with beards, with mascara.

"_Mom!" Chloe jumped up and down and pointed ecstatically, her fairy wings bobbing on her back because the elastic her arms were through wasn't tight enough. "We have to see Cinderella's castle!" Technically Chloe could see it from where they were standing on Main Street, it's magnificent spires and towers were hard to miss from anywhere in the park. But Chloe wanted to walk through it, she wanted to touch the walls and walk the floors. It was the best place to play pretend ever; there was a real castle! She didn't have to imagine one! _

_The woman assured her as she fixed Chloe's costume, "We will, Sweetie, but lis—"_

"_Oh!" Chloe's eyes nearly popped out of her head. She could see the big metal looking dome building and a spinning spire with planets on it far off in the distance, "We have to ride Space Mountain!" Tomorrowland was another one of her favorite spots in Disney World. Well, they all were! But there she could pretend to be an astronaut, she could pretend she was in the future on Mars or something! _

"_Yes." Nodded her mother, "Now, listen, if—"_

_There was too much to see, the little girl was overwhelmed with joy. She started breathing heavily and squealing, "There's so much! Mommy, we _have_ to—"_

_Her mom's voice got incredibly stern and two octaves louder, "Chloe Marie, listen to me."_

_It was that tone you only need to hear once. The one you better listen to instantly or else you're in trouble. Chloe stopped all her movement (it was hard but she honed it all in) and gave the woman her full attention. "Yes ma'am."  
>She felt self-concious about almost (basically) getting in trouble in public. Two of a family of four passing by looked their direction after hearing her mom's demand and a couple steps away an older boy standing at the map was snickering at her. If two adults weren't watching her, she could get away with sticking her tongue out at him. But alas…she stuck to looking at the pom poms on her slippers instead.<em>

"_It's a big park," Mommy knelt to be eye level and smoothed the girl's hair back, "I know you're excited but I need you to be careful and stay close to us. We have enough days in Disney that we _will _see everything, I promise. So don't run ahead; that's very important. Hold one of our hands, yes?"_

_Chloe nodded respectfully, "Yes ma'am."_

_The handsome man next to her mom ( Not Daddy. Captain Hook. Today anyway. The man insisted on being called Captain Hook because he was dressed like him. Every time he corrected them her mom rolled her eyes but Chloe could tell she secretly thought it was funny) quizzed, "And what do you do if you get lost?"_

_They talked about that in the bus from the hotel on the way to the park to refresh her memory before she got too caught up in the magic to pay attention to them. "Pick a spot near where I last saw you and stay there. And wait."_

"_That's my girl." Captain Hook picked her up to put her on his hip, "Come on Tink," and gave her a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek. Once Chloe giggled and hugged his neck (she loved pirates so much because of him), he wrapped his arm around her mother, "Wendy." The woman slapped his chest and he looked around their area, diving into character, pretending to search high and low, "Now, where's Peter Pan? We have a score to settle," he played with his ridiculous accent. "Peter?" He pointed to the kid who snickered at Chloe getting in trouble earlier (Ha. Ha). The boy was wearing green so he was reeeeally in for it. "Ah! I've found you, Scallywag!" _

Pick a spot. Stay. Wait. Chloe could do that. But the concept seemed less scary when she was surrounded by big pretend talking mice and castles and happiness with her family instead of a dank, dirty, musty smelling underground tunnel by herself and big, real, not-talking rats. Chloe put on her determined face and blinked back the tears because she had to be brave. This was just another adventure. If she could make it from the airport to Uncle Arthur's apartment by herself ok, she could do this just fine. Ignoring the prickly feeling in her toes and the sudden chill, Chloe cautiously looked around and saw two benches a few feet away from her on either side. The one that was closest to the tunnel that Uncle Arthur disappeared into had a man with a beanie, trench coat and coffee cup on it. The one furthest was empty. That one.

The little girl turned Penny around and held her facing over her shoulder so her trusty elephant could watch her back for her. Then she puffed out her chest, lifted her chin and walked valiantly to her destination, dodging around strangers as she went. She became a tad less fearless-looking when she came up on the bench and hopped onto it like it was lifeboat on the Titanic. Immediately, she crossed her legs underneath her, smoothed the skirt of her dress over them to keep them warm and gripped Penny to her chest once more. Chloe wisely kept her eyes peeled and glared suspiciously at people around her (especially the few that joined her on the bench. She made sure to scoot all the way to the edge away from them). Every now and then a man in a suit would hasten by and she'd straighten expecting it to be her Uncle. She _really_ hoped he wasn't upset with her for accidentally getting left behind. She probably wasted a lot of the time he set aside. Another subway train came and went which made Chloe anxious.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Arthur waited at the door for the subway to stop with bated breath and what felt like cotton in his throat. The further it sped—like a bullet—away from his niece, the longer the time stretched. A minute of travel time felt like an hour. His knuckles were gradually turning white on the rail above his head. . He ignored the sympathetic looks he received from some of the passengers who'd seen it go down (keyword: some. A lot of New Yorkers were indifferent) and continued tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as the train screeched like nails on a chalkboard to a halt, Arthur physically pulled the doors apart and bolted out and up. He determined he could run faster than it would take the subway to get there.

There were only two other times in Arthur's life where he panicked this severely. The first and most traumatic was while Ariadne was in labor with Ender and they thought she might not be able to physically handle it—worried they might have to do a c-section and take the baby in case they lost her. That experience still took the cake, he was worse than a wreck. Right on par with this subway incident was when they found out Ender was allergic to ants after he stepped on a bed and had to be rushed to the emergency room because he couldn't breathe. Arthur didn't even comprehend the jolt of his feet hitting the pavement or the danger of elbowing and heaving people into the sides of buildings and onto the street. He just thought about all the different things that could happen to Chloe. She was an adorable little girl…and friendly…someone could just throw her over their shoulder and wrench her into a van. They could knock her out with a rag of chloroform and drag her away. She could be sold on the adoption black market, she could fall into the hands of some perverts. She could fall onto the tracks and be run over. She could go looking for him and get lost in a seedy section of the huge city never to be found again. (He was almost positive she was smarter than to move from where he last saw her). Arthur couldn't handle losing her too. And it wasn't for fear of repercussions from his parents. He wasn't thinking of them finding out he'd broken the rules and made contact, not of them learning he'd lost Chloe and the surefire consequences rained down on him for it. No, he couldn't lose her because this tiny human brought a taste of sunshine back into his life. Chloe was dependent on him and he was scared to death he'd let her down.

He imagined the terror she must feeling but also her faith that Arthur would come back for her. He would find her. He hadn't gone back and found Ariadne and Ender and that haunted him to this day so with Chloe's trust and safety and puppy dog eyes on the line Arthur sped across the walkway, dodging the oncoming cars that swerved and braked. The blaring, honking, horns that sailed over his head.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Chloe pressed her lips into Penny's trunk, halfway hiding her face from the new stranger to join her bench. She pet her elephant and whispered, "Don't be scared, Penny. He'll come back." Would he? Arthur wasn't too thrilled to keep her when she first showed up on his doorstep. He was hesitant about agreeing; doing it all out of obligation. But she wasn't his problem anymore…she was out of his hair. Maybe this was a good excuse: Chloe was a needle in the Big Apple Haystack, he could assume it was useless in trying and let her find her own way back to his parents. Those parasitical ideas wreaked their havoc on her confidence as another train came and went. As new people sought out seats on her bench. Hugging Penny tighter, she wished, "_Please _come back."

Instantaneously, her wish was answered. She heard her name echoing through the underground. First, she instinctively looked at the black hole the subways went into, then behind her, then at the stairs. And there Uncle Arthur was. Lobbing himself down them, skipping several at a time, frenziedly skimming the crowds in all directions. So happy to see him, Chloe stood on the bench and yelled, "UNCLE ARTHUR!" Then she hopped over the side of it and started running his direction. Arthur quickened his pace and forcefully thrust and shoved people out of his way, relief not quite reaching him yet.

The second he got to her, The Point Man scooped her into his arms and lifted her into a huge bear hug. "Thank God!"

Chloe's hat tumbled off and landed near his feet but she didn't care if it got trampled. Chloe didn't have to be alone and afraid anymore. Her arms squeezed around his neck as tight as she could muster (Penny was squished between them) as she apologized, "I'm so sorry, Uncle Arthur. I dropped Penny—" To which the man clutched her back and smoothed the hair on the back of her head, "No, no, no. I'm just glad you're ok. I was scared to death that I lost you _too_." His carelessness cost him Ariadne and Ender. He might've died if it'd cost him his niece as well, "Thank goodness. Thank goodness you're ok. I was so worried." His lips pressed into her hair.

After the initial relief and adrenaline wore off, they both loosened their holds but he didn't put her down. Arthur didn't dare let go of her for a split-second. He picked up the hat, put it on top of her head and addressed the elephant in between them, "You gave us heart attacks, Penny. Don't you ever do that again."

"_Yeah_ Penny." Chloe frowned down and pointed at her, "Stick close from now on, young lady."

Arthur turned to wait for the next train as the little girl rested her head on his shoulder.

**Xxxxxxxx**

Chloe wanted pizza, so they ended up at some Italian hole in the wall. The food was actually unbelievably good. Everything was hot and fresh and had that home-cooked meal aspect to it like it was cooked in a wood burning oven. Arthur got their lasagna and a whole small cheese and olives pizza for his niece (which she generously shared with Penny). They discussed dessert because time allowed for it but together reasoned they'd rather save room for popcorn during intermission at the theatre. They could always pick up ice cream or cheesecake afterwards if their sweet tooth was still bothering them. Arthur didn't let her walk on her own; he carried Chloe the entire way. Since, the_ very_ recent subway scare he was afraid to let go of her. Was reluctant to put her down because of the swarming nighttime crowds in the busiest part of New York. He'd already decided to get a taxi back home after the show to reduce any and all risks.

They stood in line, waiting for the doors of the theatre to open. Or rather, Arthur stood. Chloe was still propped on his hip, taking pictures of everything with his phone. (Knowing him well, Chloe wiped her hands with the hanky in his jacket pocket first so she wouldn't get grease or something on it). They planned ahead. The theatre didn't allow anyone to take pictures during the show so they most likely wouldn't have let her carry in her bulky Polaroid camera anyway. Arthur said she could take a _max_ of a hundred pictures (he was getting soft…) and he would print her favorites for her scrap journal. Chloe took the picture allowance very seriously and rationed them out for herself. She took a picture of the theatre and it's blinking sign from far off, then close up, then the doors. Then she turned the screen around and made her uncle take a selfie with her. She definitely wanted him to print that one. Actually, Arthur wanted a copy for himself too. He could frame it and put it in their living room. His house could use some pictures that wouldn't upset him but make him smile.

As soon as their tickets were scanned and they were let inside, Chloe had Arthur safely tuck them away for her book. Arthur got in the souvenir line with her and had Chloe pick out what she wanted before the show. He didn't want to come out at intermission or after the entire thing was over and everything either be sold out or picked over. Quite a crowd had the same idea but nowhere near as many people as there would be later. "What do you want, Chlo?" The child's eyes scanned over and darted around, overwhelmed with delight and her decision. Arthur encouraged, "Point to something. Anything. Or everything…whatever you want." The man with them at the counter was very amused that she was in such awe. He and Arthur made eye contact and Arthur apologized, "I'm sorry. Annie is her absolute favorite thing on the planet; I think she's shell shocked with excitement."

The man leaned in and confessed, "It's ok; gives me a break. Take your time."

"Chloe…there's a line behind us."

Frazzled, she stammered, "I don't know…um…a t-shirt I guess." Then she caught sight of a very miniature stuffed dog with a red bow around his neck and recanted, "No, no! I want Sandy! I have to have Sandy!"

Arthur made a decision in his mind and waved the employee back over—his name was John—who asked, "Made a decision?"

"I think I'm going to have to make it for her," Arthur snickered. "Um, one of the stuffed dogs and," he turned his head to ask Chloe, "Which shir—" then shook his head deciding against giving her another set of options, "Just get both of the children's Annie shirts. Size small." The Point Man peered at the display of souvenirs while John plucked through the shirts for the requested sizes. Arthur pointed at the small setup on the counter, nudging Chloe with his shoulder, "Want a keychain for your backpack? To go with your bird?" Chloe nodded, adding a 'please', which only served to further wrap Arthur around her finger. When John returned and bagged the toy and shirts, Arthur grabbed a keychain and set it in front of him, "This and…go ahead and get a poster and the souvenir program. The big one. And the tin water bottle." Both John, the theatre employee at the register next to him and one of the other patrons at the counter gave him an incredulous look. He smiled at them and pointed, "The pencil case too please."

With wide eyes, John got out one of their larger merchandise bags to stuff it all in. Out of nowhere, Chloe started then tapped Arthur's shoulder, "Uncle Arthur, will you exchange one of my t-shirts?" Arthur tilted his head in lieu of verbally asking a question so she explained, "I promised Mr. Max I'd bring him something. You're being really nice and getting me a lot, I don't need two shirts. You can put some other stuff back too—to pay for it."

John paused his packing in case there was a change in order and waited. But Arthur was such a puddle after her display of sweetness, he wasn't about to take anything away from her. Especially since he had more than enough money. It'd been such a long time since he doted on anyone and since Chloe showed up on his doorstep, he remembered how good it felt. "You don't have to give anything up, Tiny." He turned to John, "Will you grab another t-shirt. Probably…" Back to Chloe, "What size do you think Max is?"

Her lips twisted, "Bigger than you. He's kinda like Pooh bear. But in the good, fluffy friend way."

"Extra Large." Arthur then had Chloe point to which one she thought Max would like best and they completed their order. John whistled and looked at Arthur slightly embarrassed. He was used to people coming in, getting over excited and then not being able to reasonably afford all they picked out. Broadway souvenirs weren't cheap. "And your grand total is $165, sir." For the first time that night since the subway incident (besides dinner), Arthur set Chloe down to retrieve his wallet. (Man his arms were sore.) He ordered her to stay right in front of him (going so far as to demand her hands stayed on the counter) and handed the man his card. Arthur slid his wrist through the bag handles then picked Chloe back up but she had to hold the playbills that were handed out as they went into the auditorium to find their seat.

Chloe could barely contain her excitement while they waited for the curtain to rise especially when the orchestra began to play the overture. Her hands covered her mouth and her knee started to bounce. Arthur was sure she was about to come out of her seat or cry when the curtain finally rose and revealed the set of the orphanage. The Point Man knew the main idea of the story: Badly treated orphan goes to a rich guy's house so he can call it charity and then he ends up adopting her but he'd never seen the play or movie. He'd only sort of heard the music when Chloe's movie played at night. Arthur had to admit the tunes were catchy, the lyrics were clever and those kids were damn talented. When 'Hard Knock Life' started, you best believe Chloe was at the edge of her seat with this look of anger on her face just like the kids on stage. Arthur was sure that in her head, she was onstage with them. In that orphanage with them. Arthur recognized 'Tomorrow' as the song Chloe sang in the bathtub one of her first nights in town. The Point Man got as invested in the show as his niece and before they knew it, it was intermission.

He confessed as they walked back to their seats with individual buckets of hot buttery popcorn in possession, "You know, I can see why you love this show so much."

"Isn't it _so good_?" his niece popped some kernels into her mouth.

"Yeah." Arthur did the same and patted her top hat, "It's full of heart." Very much like his niece.

Arthur found himself laughing along to Chloe's motto song: 'Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile' as well as laughing at Chloe dancing in her seat and mouthing the words. Watching Chloe react to the production was almost as entertaining as watching the real thing. Despite himself, Arthur couldn't help but see himself and Chloe as Annie and Daddy Warbucks albeit they were actually related and in different circumstances but still. And he couldn't help wanting to picture the lovely secretary Grace as Ariadne (though in all honesty, she'd probably be the successful, taking-names billionaire and he the guy crunching numbers and keeping up with her schedules). The only thing missing was a little boy to compare to Ender. (Arthur would never admit it but he got misty eyed during the finale. Lord…)

Even though it was almost eleven as they exited, he took Chloe to the stage door to get a few pictures and autographs from the cast. They ended up waiting in line another half hour but Chloe got the girls that played Annie and Pepper to sign her shirt and ticket stub and got pictures with them and the man that played Warbucks. You would've thought the little girl was meeting the President of the United States. Arthur held Chloe as they waited for the cab. He blanketed his suit jacket over her (he could tell she was getting tired) and agitatedly complained, shaking one of his hands in the air, "Come on. You'd think it'd be easier to catch a taxi. The city's swarming with them." A cab pulled up a little further down the curb and picked up another group. Arthur sneered, "I hate New York."

Chloe sleepily and probably unknowingly sang, "NYC… you crowd, you cramp…You're still the champ…" her head on Arthur's shoulder, one of her arms hung limply around one of his and the other was around his neck. He'd long ago taken off her top hat and put it and Penny into the bag of merchandise they bought. Arthur rubbed her back comfortingly and sighed as he attempted to hail another cab.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_The first time Arthur came home from the string of jobs that tore he and his family apart, Ariadne was waiting up for him. It was late as he crept in, the swish of his coat and click of his loafers on the wood barely audible. He called her from a payphone three days before, on the 7__th__, and said that unless there was some fatal disaster she could expect him by dinner. Well it'd been the 10__th__ for two hours now. He didn't expect her to be on the couch when he got there. He noticed her form after he re-bolted the door and hung his keys. Her head was propped on her hand and the tv was repeating some infomercial. "Ari?" He tiptoed over. A cursory glance down the hallway showed that Ender's room was dark and he was most likely asleep. "Architect…" he whispered, peeking his head over her shoulder and finding she was passed out, her hand still on the remote button like she'd dozed off mid-push. _

_That first time he left after Ender was born, she was a nervous wreck. It was before Arthur leaving became a routine, before 'doing the job to protect his family' became a scripted line in a frequent argument. That first time, she wholeheartedly believed when he said they were in danger. That first time, she went to bed every night praying Arthur would make it back to them and they could resume starting their fresh and _normal _life together. That first time, she didn't shake her head and roll her eyes when he returned later than he promised (because him being late wasn't anything new), she paced and lost sleep (because at that point, Arthur not appearing when he said he would was a completely new concept). Arthur hoped his wife hadn't been staying up all night the past three nights waiting for him. That wasn't good for her health and he hated to have put her though such concern. He called her name again softly but the woman could scarcely lift her head or open her eyes, much less recognize him and answer. _

_Subsequently, the Point Man scooped her up and carried her back to their bed. Making sure to cover her ears with the sheet but let one foot dangle out because that's how she slept most comfortably. After brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, Arthur went into their closet and changed into his pajamas and then padded to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. It was after he downed the glass and placed it in the empty sink that he turned around and found Ariadne up. Standing rigidly in the hallway, the top of her totem sticking out of her constricted fist. The space between her eyebrows wrinkled in a way only Arthur could pick up on. _

_Instantaneously, the man gaited across the space to his wife and pulled her into him. Her nails clawed at his shirt and scrunched the skin underneath trying to pull him closer. Arthur could feel the hiccups of her breath, the trembling of her shoulders. "It's ok, Ari," he soothed as he rubbed circles on her back and smoothed her hair, "I'm here. I'm alright. I'm right here." _

"_It's the tenth," the Architect sobbed._

"_I know," he commented apologetically. Ariadne was obviously worried sick and Arthur knew that were their roles reversed he'd be in the same exact state she was in, if not worse. "I'm sorry." He picked her up again; her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around him neck like a baby koala. "Come on, Sweetheart, let's go to bed."_

Xxxxxxx

When he finally got his niece home it was almost one am. Arthur sat her stuff down by her door and then laid her on the bed while he got her pajamas. Chloe was conked out. Didn't budge when he turned on one of her lamps or anything. It was a hassle but he'd changed Ender in his sleep before (nevermind that Ender was much younger and smaller and a boy) so he figured he could handle this. It was easiest to slip her yellow nightgown she wore that morning back on and he put some socks on her as well because she shivered like she might be cold. Luckily, the child was prudent about keeping all of her socks folded together. No mix-matched. Arthur labored to stick her strawberry printed ones on her and left her dress clothes on the floor to tuck her in. He had to sit her back up to move her toys and pull her covers and sheets down—then laid her back down and covered her up to her chin, reaching into the bag for Penny and placing the stuffed animal under her arm. She liked to have Emmett with her at night too so Arthur sat the monkey on her other side and then tucked Julie into her doll bed. He almost didn't but Chloe would have a cow that Julie had to go to sleep in jeans, so he broke down and changed the doll into her nightgown too. No one would see him right?

Man, he missed doing fatherly things like this. Missed the feeling of tucking his little boy in. Of standing in the doorway listening to Ariadne read space adventure books and tell tales of Greek odysseys. He missed the way Ender's hair would stick to his forehead as he slept—no matter how cold it was, Ender was a human heater and he got hot. Just like his mom. He missed dinosaur footie pajamas and buzz light year sippy-cups and being tackled awake on Saturday mornings. He missed baby hands pulling on his ears and sloppy goodnight kisses.

Of course, after being practically dead to the world while he was moving her around, it was when he quietly walked to her closet, when the hangers barely tinkled against each other as he hung her dress up that her eyes drifted open, "Uncle Arthur?"

The Point hushed from his spot, "Shh, you were sleeping so well." He zipped the dress as it hung, placed her top hat on one of the shelves.

"Uncle Arthur, I have to tell you something," spoke Chloe, eyes closed, one arm halfheartedly outstretched.

Arthur walked over and knelt by her bed, "Go back to sleep, it's late." Instinctively, he brushed some hair out of her face, "You can tell me in the morning."

Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed all while her eyes remained tiredly shut, "But it's really important."

The Point Man relented and whispered, "Ok, tell me quick."

Chloe mumbled, "I love you, Uncle Arthur," halfway coherently as she squeezed Penny tighter and seemed to give in to sleep.

Arthur smiled softly, "I love you too, Tiny." Before he processed what he was doing, he kissed the top of her head. It was so natural, he didn't even think about it. It felt cathartic to tell another person he loved them. He hadn't had a chance to say that to _anyone_ after Ariadne took Ender. He did his best to silently put away her shoes even as she started to snore then left her door cracked and went to bed himself.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_There were no teary embraces the last time he came home late. The time before the job she left him over, to be specific. Arthur came traipsing through the door at the moment Ariadne was slinging her bag onto her shoulder. Both his wife and son were bundled up in coats and scarves, the boy with a hat and gloves too. Ender let go of her hand and hugged Arthur's leg, "Arthur Dad! Did you bring presents?!" That was really all he was good for, wasn't it? But the Point grinned at the little boy and shook a paper bag filled to the brim, "You bet I did, buddy." Ender cheered and eagerly took the bag to the living room to tear through it. Arthur's grin slid to Ariadne as he leaned in to kiss her. Her head turned away from him, "It's the twenty-first." He was supposed to be home before the end of _last_ month not this one._

"_I know," he commented apologetically, "I'm sorry." He moved his suitcase aside, put his briefcase down and shed his coat while trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. "But I made it in time for your birthday." Out of the outer pocket of his suitcase, he pulled a specially wrapped box and held it out to her, "We'll do something special tonight, the three of us. I'll whip something together. And then maybe, after, the _two of us_ can—"_

"_Thanks but I have plans." The woman grabbed her keys from the wall and held her hand out to the boy, "Ender, we're going to be late. Are you coming with me or staying with Dad?"_

_Ender looked at the plethora of toys scattered around him, then the man who gifted them, then the woman in the red jacket. "Coming with you, Mommy!" He hopped up and scurried over to her. Waddled out the door with one hand in his pocket and one holding his mom's, leaving Arthur dumbfounded in the foyer.  
><em>xxxxxxx

The next day, they took a trip to Barton Orchards for ingredients for their long-awaited apple and cheese frittatas. They could've gone to the grocery a few blocks from their building but Arthur reasoned that hand-picked apples according to their tastes was better and Chloe reasoned that she wanted to ride on a tractor.

"This one?" Arthur hovered his hand over a rich looking yellow apple. As long as it wasn't rotten or browned in areas, Arthur was all for any given apple. They were assuredly the best in the New York (though the owners of the orchards had to claim that for advertisement purposes whether it was true or not). The child, on the other hand, was superbly picky. Arthur felt sympathetic for anyone who'd ever faced the brunt of his anal attention to detail and demand for specificity because now he understood how trying it could be.

Chloe shook her head scornfully, "I don't like the shape. It's too lumpy."

She was a sucker for shape. She chose two apples earlier because they looked like hearts (only if you squinted and even then Arthur had to use his imagination), declined one that looked 'too square' and shied away from one she swore looked like it had a face. Like he mentioned during all those instances, Arthur replied, "We're cutting them up anyway."

"They could still be aesthetically pleasing," she countered, scanning the branches of the tree next to the one they were standing under. Arthur could've debated they didn't _have _to be but was too busy wondering where on earth she heard the phrase 'aesthetically pleasing'…advanced Honors English class or not it was still an incredibly intelligent string of words. Then again her random spurts of ideas and little known facts weren't unlike his and Greg's at that age. They memorized things they read or heard that they found interesting, often recited them to their parents (mostly their father) to impress them. Being smart for their age made their father proud of them and when he was proud were the few times he was warm and dad-like so they took to being small geniuses for the attention it garnered. It got Gregory and Arthur more time with their dad too—he liked taking them on golf outings with his comrades or business lunches, let them attend the dinner parties he hosted instead of holing up in their rooms. He liked to have them recite the entire series of numbers in pi or teach German phrases as if the boys were party tricks themselves and sometimes they'd get a pat on the back or ruffle of hair as reward for it.

Arthur lost track of the argument during his reminiscence so he shrugged and pointed to another apple, "This one, then?"

"Yes! That one's perfect!" Instead of plucking it himself, Arthur lifted Chloe up and let her wrench the apple off then watched halfheartedly while she put carefully put in her basket. Everyone else carried around big brown paper bags but Chloe insisted on a lightly colored basket with a blue and white gingham bow attached to the front. She wanted to feel like Dorothy on her farm, she pleaded. When it filled it up (which it had four times now being a small basket) they had to go back to the tractor and dump them into her paper bag there but it wasn't a far trek. Or it hadn't been at first but now he was getting tired of going back and forth merely to humor her sense of fancy.

Arthur had been in a weird mood that morning and it had nothing to do with Chloe which is why he internally chastised himself for letting his disdain for the day show to her. His mood was an accumulation of different things. First of them was a nightmare about Ariadne that had him up with a cold sweat at 4am and wouldn't let him get back to sleep the rest of the night. He'd gone to bed thinking about one of the last times he came home to his frustrated and neglected wife and ended up having a full blown natural-dream nightmare about finding her and Ender somewhere in Colorado. Finding them wasn't the horrendous part of course, it was actually a pleasant reverie until he knocked on her door and another man answered. Tall, light skin like Ariadne's, wavy light brown hair and vivid green eyes. His clothing contrasted Arthur's suit to a point of ridiculousness, standing at the doorway in grey sweatpants, undershirt and deep blue satin robe hanging on his shoulders. Arthur thought he might have the wrong house until a question hit him over the head like a baseball bat.

"_Daddy who is it?" a curious little boy called from inside, the sound of him wafting onto the porch along with the scent of specially-made cinnamon pancakes and bacon. The voice was familiar and Arthur thought he could place it but it sounded too old, it wasn't as squeaky anymore, his consonants and vowels were differentiated and understandable. Then a boy who looked six or seven years old—just under Chloe's age—with jet black hair and bright ocean blue eyes peeked from behind the other man. "Ender," Arthur croaked, "it's me. It's—" Ender's eyes widened in recognition but not the agreeable kind. They widened in horror and his face sobered up, the look in his eyes so much like Ariadne it was painful and the boy backed up and screamed, "Mommy! Mommy, that bad man's here! That bad Arthur man is here!" _

"_Babe!" The other man stood straighter as if on guard and called for explanation. Babe? What the hell? Soon, another pair of feet was heard pattering on the wood floors, "What?" Her voice. Ariadne's voice. "Seth, what's going on?" she grabbed Seth's shoulder, concerned, from behind and Arthur could see her wedding ring. Not the one Arthur had given her, a different one. One that matched the ring on the hand of the man holding the doorknob. Immediately she shooed Seth and Ender back, claiming she could handle this alone. Ariadne requested Seth finished the bacon and Ender get out some glasses and fill them with orange juice, then she pulled her cardigan tighter and stepped out on the porch with the Point Man. Closed the door behind them. "Arthur, what the hell are you doing here?"_

_Arthur growled back angrily, "What the hell is Ender doing calling that man 'Daddy'?! WHO IS THAT?"_

_Slits. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she showed off her left hand just to dig at him, "Who do you think it is?"_

"_Already?" He spat. Accusing her of rebounding too easily. His throat burning each time he swallowed._

"_Already?" repeated Ariadne, bored, "It's been years, Arthur. Ender's a little boy now not a toddler anymore. I gave up on you. I wasn't going to wait for you to find us longer than six months; that would've been pathetic on my part." Arthur felt the world turn upside, felt his legs jumble and his back collide with something hard and only after the stars swirling around his head cleared did he realize she'd pushed him down their front stairs. A drop of crimson trickled and tickled his forehead nearly missing his eyes and one of his legs felt broken. Ironically the contractions inside his chest, the finality and affirmation of losing her and his child gave him more agony than his physical injuries. Ariadne floated down the stairs and stood over him with her arms crossed. Despite everything, despite the fact he was immobilized on the ground, Arthur just wanted to touch her again, feel any part of her on his fingertips again, so he strained his hand and grazed her ankle, "Please, Ariadne, I—"_

"_Shhh…" soothed the woman. The beautiful, beautiful woman who used to lead him through mazes in their heads and stay up all night whispering about wild colors and impossible shapes and far off places meant just for the two of them. She sat atop him, straddling his stomach nonchalantly and caressing his face with the back of her hand almost sympathetically (but not quite, a sinister sparkle flickered through her gaze). He felt the itching, burning sting, of water building in the corners of his eyes—partly because Ariadne's soft touch, her familiar weight over him again, was the most outstanding, glorious thing he'd felt in ages. And partly because he knew the real thing would feel a million times sweeter but he may never experience the real thing again. "Don't do this to me," he beseeched the form, "Please. I still love you so much."_

_Ariadne blinked. Nodded. "I know. But it's too late. You've ruined us." As easily and swiftly as snapping her fingers, his tie was discarded somewhere in her garden and half of his dress shirt was unbuttoned. Ariadne shook her head at him, pulling a marker from behind her back and tracing circles with the cap, on the left side of his chest. "You know," laughed the architect bitterly, "you've put more effort into one month with a niece you barely know than you put into your own son's entire life." _

"_She has no one else. You have to believe me," he demanded at the pop of the cap being bitten off and spat onto her front pavement, "I've been looking for the two of you this whole time. I know it's taken me awhile but I've been doing my best to get back—"_

"_When are you going to accept the fact that I haven't been waiting 'this whole time'?" Her swirly handwriting marked his chest with her name, "I quit waiting. I stopped waiting for you the day you walked out. If I was going to wait for you ever again, I would've waited then. We'd be together right now." Arthur felt the tip of the marker create an X where his heart was buried. "I don't love you anymore." The gleam of a knife came from nowhere. Instinctively he gripped her wrists but it didn't stop the weapon from plunging into his chest and carving a circle. "I know you could've stayed! I know you could've paid them off! But you chose to leave me, leave US!" _

"_Please! I'm sorry!" grunted the Point. "I thought when you said you wanted me happy, I thought you were encouraging me to go. I thought that meant you were going to be there when I got back—"_

_The woman leaned in. Her forehead brushed and pressed against his that sweet, earth bending way it used to when he woke up to her every morning, "You loved dreaming more than me…"_

"_Never," Arthur cried, "I could never love anything more than you," his fingers tangled themselves in her curls, loving the silkiness, the smell of her shampoo, even the damn tangles she hadn't brushed yet that day, "You're my everything."_

_Horrifically he realized the tightness in his chest, the sharp puncturing pain, wasn't because he lifted his chin to kiss her and she pulled back, it was because her nails had dug into his carved out chest and were squeezing his heart. Ariadne whispered against his mouth, "How do you like dreaming now?" When she sat up, she ripped his heart out and brought it with her causing Arthur insurmountable anguish. The woman ignored his tormented screams and grunts and stood. Paid him no mind. Walked back up the stairs of her porch._

"_Ariadne!" Her clothes were spattered with his blood, his heart was slowing in her grasp, he'd never felt more pain radiating through his entire body in his life—reality or dreams—and still he couldn't stand the thought of her leaving him. Still he— "I love you, Ariadne, please!"—did all he possibly could to get to his stomach and pull himself along the pavement after her. "Don't leave me, Ariadne! I love you! I love you!" _

_He was using his elbows to lug himself up the stairs when the Architect turned and dropped his heart on her doormat with a thunk, "Now you know I felt. Watching you walk away from me. Sputtering and crying like an idiot for you to stay." _

"_Ariadne! ARIADNE!" he screamed to her back, "ARIADNE, DAMMIT!" bruising his fists on the stairs, making as much noise as possible to get the Architect to look back at him one more time. Ender opened the front door for her and she stepped inside, patting Ender on the shoulder with her bloody hand. Arthur then wearily pleaded with the boy, "Ender. Ender, please help me."_

_The little boy sneered and kicked the heart from their doormat, "Why don't you ask _Chloe_?"_

The slam of the door propelled him to the waking world. He still hadn't shaken its effects well into the afternoon. It didn't help that as soon as it started to fade—on their commute to the orchards—he saw another Ariadne look-a-like. A short brunette holding onto the arm of a strange man in casual clothing, both accompanied by a little boy. Sure, the kid was a red head and was still young enough to need a stroller but all he needed was a template of her to go zooming back to his 4 am heartache. It was an eye opener. His subconscious had some valid points. Why _would _Ariadne be waiting for him to find her? Why wouldn't she move on? She wanted a normal life, she wanted Ender to have reliable father figure, why wouldn't she pursue a relationship that could fulfill that? Even if he could work out a way to find her, why would she still love him?

The brown of the tree trunk came into focus when Chloe put her basket down and tugged his sleeve, "Uncle Arthur, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, "I'm sorry I've been irritable today. It's got nothing to do with you."

Chloe leaned against the trunk (crossing one leg over the other and clasping both hands together in front of her) and gave him the look a therapist would give their client, "It's cause you miss them." She nodded intuitively, "You thought that lady at the intersection was her again." Arthur thought Chloe was too engrossed in her book on the cab-ride to notice his embarrassingly frantic double-take. The little girl looked wistfully across the orchards at a large (probably extended) family gathering clambering onto the hayride. (At the Orchards, the hayrides and petting zoo weren't limited to fall, they were year round. The Orchards made fall special with corn mazes and pumpkin patches with carving stations but she wouldn't be staying in New York long enough to experience those unfortunately). "Sometimes I think I see my family too…"

Arthur sensed a wad of guilt bunch up in his stomach for making everything about _his_ grief. For always forgetting that what Chloe was going through was worse. He needed to comfort _her_, keep _her _mind off of things, not the other way around. He shook his head to scramble his upsetting thoughts. "Let's play a game to cheer us both up." Arthur suggested, "Let's pretend we're picking apples on the moon."

Chloe, now depressed from the reminder of her own troubles in life, was oddly cynical, "There aren't apples on the moon though."

Arthur knelt to her level with brightened eyes, "What if we could build our own world where there _were_ apples on the moon? We could call them…Mooples!"

Chloe nodded but squinted, "We'll work on the name." Next the little girl picked up something invisible (but apparently pretty heavy) off the ground placed it over her head and 'connected' to something in her pocket (which was obviously, truthfully, nothing). "Kirrhh," breathed Chloe (to simulate the static of a walkie or communicating system before talking into her wrist), "Put on your helmet and connect it to your breathing apparatus. Kirrhh, or you'll die."

Arthur snickered, replied (not daring to forgo talking into his watch), "Kirrhh, copy that," and did as told. He didn't want to suffocate after all. "Ok, we'll go that way and collect as many specimens as possible." She lifted her eyebrows at him. "Oh! Kirrhh." Arthur let her assemble her basket to dangle from her arm and got behind her. Then as she walked forward, he lifted her up to the tree to get an apple, then back down. Then up, then down. A set for each slow motion leg she picked up. Simulating an accurate gravity defying moon experience.

"Kirrhh, this is fun!"

The Orchards turned into their outer space playground. They pretended the tractor was their rover and the petting zoo was a discovery of strange animal species…Being super involved in the game, Arthur pointed to dent in the ground outside the barn and called her over, "Kirrhh, 10-4 Tiny Talesco, I found a crater!" then seconds after squatting and peering into it he negated, "Kirrhh, nevermind! Abort! Kirrhh, abort!"

Being Chloe she was adamant and came sprinting (slower than normal because of her jumping each stride for air-time), "No! What'd you find Arthurnaut? Kirrhh."

He stood, staring down into the pit disgusted, "Cow poop. Over."

Chloe's face twisted up and her fingers pinched her nose, "You mean alien fecal matter….kirrhh."

"I mean it's gross," he held his hand out to her, "Let's out of here. Kirrhh."

"Copy that. Can we go back home for real?"

Arthur smoothed her sweaty hair with the hand he initially held out for her to take, "Absolutely. Are you tired?" She nodded and hugged his stomach tiredly, "And hungry for dinner."

"Me too. Let's pay and we'll go," he held her empty basket for her to loop her arm through and let her take the less heavy bag of fruit. He hauled the larger one up and reached for her hand. It was premature to have gravity back but they walked normal anyway. Their game was over for the most part besides Chloe's last check-in to NASA. "Kirrhh, 10-4, home-base do you copy?"

Arthur exaggerated a different accent, "Affirmative."

"Tiny Talesco and Arthurnaut are requesting re-entry into earth's atmosphere, Kirrhh."

"Request accepted Tiny Talesco."

"HOUSTON, WE'RE COMING HOME!"

They ended up with way more apples than the recipe called for.  
>xxxxxxxx<p>

Ouch. That nightmare…right? Next chapter Arthur reaches out to someone from his and Ariadne's past for guidance in finding her and Ender and other cute Chloe things.


	10. FOR NARNIA

_Neverlandspirit: _Bittersweet, my fave. Thanks for reviewing! _Bookwormgirl: _Yay, thank yoU! He's really embracing the playful side of being a parent/guardian. He's doing more than just swiping his card and buying her presents like he did for Ender. Yeah that nightmare sucked. _Lauraa-x: _Yes! I thought it'd be sweet if he was like scared to death to let her go after it. Showing just must he actually cared vs. how much he'd previously shown. We'll see about Ari and Ender ;) Would you wait years for your estranged husband that you essentially left to find you? Maybe she'll see the change though, maybe Chloe is his saving grace. One of those is right! And we're about at the month mark. So she doesn't have much longer in the grand scheme of things. _Coffeebean: _Night out on the town, woot woot. Arthur in a suit and Chloe with a top hat…our dapper little Talescos. I know, I know, I'm sorry (sort of). My angst just flows so easily. Please be patient! I promise it will be SO WORTH IT. _ThePinkArcher: _No worries, friend =) yay for 'I love you's'! Well there are some happy memories in this chap, maybe that'll help!

_Flora1832, ScarletDragon522, Pendragon6203 _thank you guys for the favorites and follows!

**Chapter 10: FOR NARNIA.**

_Cobb said he was meeting with Miles at the University to recruit a new architect and to make sure the warehouse was ready for a dreamshare lesson when he got back. So far Arthur set up a circle of lawn chairs, his desk and was now putting together the PASIV. When the door scraped open, he expected his blonde friend's shoes to be the ones scuffing through the building but when he turned it was just a short girl in a red jacket. He didn't lock the warehouse door, he guessed any curious Parisian could've walked in. Shielding the PASIV from view he tried to charm, "I'm sorry, are you lost?"_

"_I'm the new recruit," answered the woman as she surveyed the area. Her eyes examined the lawn chairs in suspicion for a second before she pointed behind her with her thumb, "Mr. Cobb told me to go ahead while he parked."_

_Now Arthur was never gifted at conversation, especially with strangers and female ones nonetheless. To him it was a valid question that held no offense. She was little more than half his size. "Aren't you a little young to be in college? I mean, are you legal?" It wasn't a jab. It was an honest inquiry. He certainly objected to Dom bringing in a bright-eyed kid fresh from high school into this line of work. She looked so innocent; it hardly seemed fair to corrupt her. Not to mention the liabilities that could come with it._

_The new Architect deadpanned, "I'm more legal than your occupation." Her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed as she gave him a judgmental once over. "Aren't you a little young to be dressing like my grandfather? The '30's were a long time ago."_

_The Point sighed. Confrontation was never a good way to start a working relationship. He apologized, "I didn't mean it facetiously. Your height—"_

"_What. You've never seen a short person or something?" The first time she gave him that signature raise of her eyebrows, Arthur felt extremely hot from head to toe. Whether it was from embarrassment of their botched introduction and her shameless accusation or from a wave of attraction, he couldn't tell. "We're not an endangered species." Actually maybe he felt like he was being burned alive because of the fire in her eyes. She may have been short but her energy was larger than Paris. All he could do was stare at her in intrigue as Dom trudged in, teasing, "Ah, you're offended. Means you've met our Point Man. Throw a punch if you'd like, it's been a while since he's been giving the one, two by a woman." Cobb was of course speaking of Mal who frequently kicked Arthur's ass in Dom's subconscious._

_Of course, Arthur took that as a literal, reality-based insinuation and clarified, "I've _never_ been beaten up by a woman."_

"_Give it a minute," she chided. Dom sputtered to keep from guffawing at Arthur's dubious gape. "Damn, Arthur, what did you do?" _

_Her grin was amused, the twinkle in her eye, mischievous. And it drew the Point's interest towards her like a moth to flame. Or moth to a bug zapper; attraction to any woman much less that one was suicide. "Arthur?" she repeated._

_He briefly wondered if moths knew they were flying to their death and just didn't care. Because for some reason, he was drawn to the new girl, he knew it and yet he really didn't care it was happening. Arthur blinked, "Yes. You find that amusing?"_

_The woman shrugged. Looked down with a smirk like she was hiding a secret and Arthur remembered thinking he'd do anything to figure that secret out. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he swore his brains were blown up as a result. "Pretentious name for a pretentious person," she said. Contrary to his initial greeting, Ariadne meant to be facetious as she held her hand out for him to shake, "Nice to meet you, Arthur."_

_He liked the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth. It gave him that feeling of hot coffee running down your throat into your stomach. Cobb instructed the Architect to take seat on the lawn chair so they could begin their introductory lesson. Her hair swished when she bout-faced and strolled to join the extractor. She was not a vulnerable, tightlipped, damsel that's for sure. That was a woman who not only slayed her own dragons but was queen of them. Arthur threw an incredulous look at Dom who was already looking at him. Finding humor that even Arthur was subject to her sharp mind and biting words. "Might I ask what yours is?"_

_Casually, over her shoulder, she replied, "Ariadne."_

"_Ariadne," he repeated to himself. Finding he liked the way the syllables tickled and rolled off his tongue. Arthur smirked and traipsed her way as she was draping her jacket over the back of her chair, "I'll put the needle in for you."_

As Arthur peeled and sliced the apples, Chloe cut the dough into the appropriate shape and size. The entire kitchen smelled like apple juice, Chloe could practically taste the fruit from smelling the air. They were making extras so not only could they have them for dinner but so Chloe could take some for her and Ms. Baublit's lunch the next day. The apples they picked filled two large brown paper bags like you'd get at the grocery. Perhaps they'd gotten carried away…because their collection was extensive. Per the recipe, they used the granny-smith apples for the frittatas because they contrasted with the gouda cheese the best. Per Chloe's request they juiced some of the golden delicious into a pitcher and cut up a gala apple each to snack on while they worked. "How did you and Ariadne meet? Was it love at first sight?" Chloe wasn't light on the subject matter for today's discussions. It'd gone from 'Why do people hurt pets and make them have to be on that sad tv commercial?' to 'what is martial law?' to this. The heaviest topic of all: Ariadne.

Arthur shrugged, "For me? Yes. For her?" He had to admit it was funny. Ironic even. "No. She hated me."

"What!?" The idea was horrifying to the child. Two married people not being in love with each other from the very very beginning. It was supposed to be all rainbows and hearts when married people first saw each other. I mean it _was _for herparents_._ Well—Chloe wasn't aware just how weird Arthur and Ariadne's beginning was. "That's like impossible. You probably don't really know."

Arthur dropped the next batch of slices into the bowl full and confessed, "The first two times we ever spoke, she chewed my head off. She intimidated me even though she was half my size and I was infatuated with her for it. See, your Aunt Ariadne is a firecracker. Her heart, her mind, everything about her is explosive. I knew the second she opened her mouth that if I got in her line of fire, I was done for. So I threw myself in her way." Ariadne always thought she had been the one to break Arthur down. That through a tedious process, she cracked his armor open and wormed her way in. That was true but it wasn't a process of it happening, it was a process of him showing it had. In actuality, it was Arthur who wore Ariadne down. He, through a tedious process, proved to Ariadne he wasn't an asshole—most of the time—and won her over. He had to convince her he wasn't as heartless or boring as everyone assumed he was. While they were dating, he didn't see it as her prying answers out of him and making him fall in love with her through shared secrets (like everyone else including Ariadne thought). He gave those to her willingly. He saw it as him trying to prove he was worthy of her. Prove that he could love her as fiercely as she deserved. Prove that if she gave him the chance, he could set her on fire too and they could blaze together.

Chloe asked, "Why did she chew your head off?"

He smirked, "Because I was a sourpuss," and held a slice of apple up to her face. The little girl bit off a chunk and then took the slice from him favorably, chiding flippantly, "That makes sense."

"Hey now," protested her falsely offended uncle who lightly pushed her head.

She giggled then peered closely at her dough, her eyes level with the counter. She was carefully measuring the size of her most recently cut dough-pocket compared to the first one he did as a guideline, "You wanna know what my mommy said she thought about my daddy when they first met?"

"What?"

"She said she thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen—" Chloe straightened back up and grabbed her cutting tool, "besides the frown. Does that run in our family?" Pairing two pockets together, she moved them further down the counter and pulled out another sheet of dough. When she plopped it on the counter, the flour made a dust cloud over her face and she coughed. Some of it got on Arthur's suit pants but he was going to take a few suits to the cleaners tomorrow so he didn't mind (just this once).

"Well, my father's like that too," reasoned the Point, tossing a spiral of peel into the sink. Chloe watched him do so and punched the air when it made it into the basin. The first few times he threw it, she made a big 'he shoots, he scores' deal out of it. Uncle Arthur was exceptionally consistent though. The peel made it every time so it wasn't much of a glorious and rare victory when it happened. She was used to him scoring so he just fist-pumped as a tribute to his long-running record. "It must," he decided as they both turned back to their jobs.

"Do I have it?" Chloe purposefully pushed the corners of her mouth down and made her eyes look as blank dead as possible. "Do I look like a grouch?" asked the girl (strangely hopeful) trying to keep her face in its contorted position as she talked so he could examine it.

All the man saw were patches of flour and an over exaggerated face. It was more loveable than it was bitter so he had to smile, "I don't think you could be grumpy if you tried."

The child huffed and scrunched her nose, pursed her lips, furrowed her eyebrows and brought her fists up, "How bout now?"

That time he had to guffaw. Even putting his knife down to pat her head, "Nope. Must skip the girls."

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"_We're doing good on schedule. I'm giving you the afternoon off." Cobb said simply as he gathered the papers he needed from Arthur's printer and arranged them in a folder. _

_That didn't seem productive. You'd think they'd want to move along so as to get ahead of schedule. Arthur saved his work then turned his chair towards Dom, "Why?"_

"_So you can take Ariadne to dinner," replied his friend as if the answer was obvious from his first statement. He wasn't going to further explain it either. Dom put the folder under his arm and swiped his water bottle from the coaster with every intention of crossing the room and no intention of elaborating._

"_Excuse me?" Arthur didn't let him get two steps._

_For Arthur's sake ( because Ariadne was a few feet across the room and because Eames was even closer. Though he looked passed out in his chair, they never underestimated him. He would feign some snoring and then be able to recite the entire dialogue back to them when he miraculously woke up twelve seconds later), Dom leaned in and spoke as quietly as he could but where Arthur could still hear him. "In six years, I've never seen you so much as glance at a woman _that way_ but you can't keep your eyes off her. You let her borrow pens and bring her coffee. You have feelings for her. Trust me; I'm doing you a favor. You're going to kick yourself in the ass every day for the rest of your life if you let our Architect slip through your fingers."_

_Arthur's stomach did a flip. Was it that noticeable? How embarrassing. He did his best to play it off even though he was looking her direction as he sneered and shook his head, "I'm too job oriented for a relationship right n—"_

"_Arthur." The man was suddenly eye to eye with his friend. Dom took the arms of Arthur's chair and swiveled them around towards him. He was getting all big-brother 'listen to me, you hard-head' on him. "Your career isn't going to make you laugh or make you breakfast or make love to—"_

_The Extractor never saw Arthur blush but the man turned one hundred and twenty shades of crimson in front of him as he reprimanded, "Dom." Cobb chuckled because he could see the symptoms through Arthur's rigorous struggle to hide them. As Arthur threw a cautionary glance at the Architect, Dom teased, "Or look good in nothing but your shirt—I think you'd find a new appreciation for wrinkled clothing—"_

_Again, Arthur's face heated up. His eyes darted back to Cobb's harshly as he grit, warning his friend to shut up, "DOM."_

_Standing, the blonde shrugged, "I'm just saying. Point-work can't love you back."_

"_It also can't wake up one morning and decide it doesn't love me anymore," grumbled the Point Man, picking at the edge of his desk. Dom could tell Arthur was fighting tooth and nail not to look at either him or Ariadne._

"_If you're too chicken, fine but I'm giving her the afternoon off too. So if you stay the night, while you're here overachieving think about her falling in love with some guy she meets at the bar and tell yourself it could've been you but you ruined your chance because you wanted type stuff." When Cobb sat back down at his desk (after giving Ariadne the ok to leave), Arthur huffed and returned back to his research. He could hear the rustling of her papers being shoved into their drawers. The tinkle of her pens and pencils going back in the cup. _

_The zip of her bag was what did it. What made him close his laptop and saunter over to her as she was shrugging her sweater on, "Can I ask you something real quick?"_

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"Will you tell me about it? Your first date?" Inquired the bright-eyed child as Arthur slid the pocket down to her. Similar to how they put together the ravioli's, they tag-teamed on the frittatas. He painted (her words, because he used what looked like a paintbrush) the inside with a mixture of butter and whisked eggs then lined the slices of apples inside (three to be exact) then slid it down. Chloe sprinkled the cheese (or stuffed in globs of it), closed them and lined them in the pan. "Or will it make you sad?"

Arthur hesitated. Inwardly cringed. But decided, "I can tell you a _little _about it. You want our technical first date or our actual first date?" He'd missed a small strip of peel on a particular slice of apple, so he grabbed his knife and corrected it.

"Is that a trick question?" She squinted, not at him but her pocket of dough. It was a particular small one and she was having a harder time sticking cheese in without ripping open the back. "If it has anything to do with the very first _chronological_ time you took her out then I want to know about it. _Very_ first." Deciding that what she'd put in it would just have to be enough, Chloe gave up and closed the pocket up. But not before she pointed her fork at the man, "Don't get all tricky and technical on me, Uncle Arthur."

"Chronological," he ran the brush along the tip of the bowl of wash to keep the excess from dripping onto the counter and create an unnecessary mess, "is a big word."

The little girl had to adjust the existing line of frittatas in the pan to make room for one more in the row. She wanted rows of seven instead of six she randomly decided. "Number one, I'm in advanced English. And number two, I'm a Talesco."

Arthur joked, sliding another down, "Ever thought about going into law?" The way she worded her terms to him about the story covered all the bases. And she made sure to construct her phrasing in a way he couldn't justifiably worm out of.

"I was vice class president last term," she proudly stated, mouth full of cheese.

That was politics…not law…but he supposed it were close enough not to mention that to her. She seemed proud about being on SGA. He was actually surprised she wasn't a title higher which is why he asked, "Not president?"

"I respectfully declined," sighed the child. Arthur couldn't keep from silently snickering—the things that came out of Chloe's mouth never ceased to both amaze and entertain him. "I didn't want to juggle that responsibility and all my dance rehearsals and tae kwon do classes. It wouldn't have been fair to anyone to spread myself so thin."

"You sound like such a little grown up."

"And you sound like you're _stalling," _melodically chimed the 'little grown up'.

"Ok, ok," he dropped the brush into the bowl and chose his three apple slices to line inside.

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><em>They met in the hotel lobby and Arthur drove them by means of black Cadillac to the fanciest restaurant in Dublin he could pay his way into on short notice—and that was the fanciest restaurant in Dublin. They got a table right next to the big windows that look out onto the city—something that cost him extra. He remembered what Ariadne wore to a tee. White dress, black dots, peachy-orange sash tied in front. The skirt was full but pleated and it was sleeveless with a small v at the neck. With her hair more strategically and carefully curled into larger spirals than normal she looked very classic and vintage. Essentially Ariadne. She apologized for not having anything fancier but he assured her it was suited well for where they were headed. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs. The evening started off well…it just went downhill pretty fast. <em>

"_To drink?" the waiter asked after they'd settled into their seats and draped the napkins over their laps. Now, Arthur knew what Ariadne liked through a combination of observing her choices on group outings and through extensive reconnaissance research (so he'd know what kind of restaurant and food she'd prefer). He thought it was charming that he ordered for the both of them, "Merlot for me and Pinot Griggio for the lady. You can leave the bottles with us in an ice bucket." Arthur thought it showed that he paid attention to her and her likes and dislikes. He grazed his eyes over the menu, he didn't need to actually look through it. They'd briefly talked about the food on the way there; he was a regular (another reason he was able to pay his way in without reservation) so he made some recommendations and took note of which she sounded most interested in. "It's a nice building isn't it?" he pointed out, physically pointing at the ceilings. _

_Ariadne nodded politely, taking a break from skimming the menu to scan her surroundings, "I like the style. Modern lines meet traditional décor." _

"_Here we are." Their waiter appeared with the requested ice bucket, bottles, and glasses of wine. Altering the way his napkin hung over his forearm he asked, "Will we need a few more minutes to look at the menu?"_

_Arthur completely missed Ariadne opening her mouth to give input—he answered for the both of them. "No, we're ready. We'll both have the Gorgonzola tri-tip." That was the one she said sounded good in the car, right? "Medium rare for me, medium well for her." Again, he made these choices based on information he gathered about her consumption tendencies thinking it would make an impression on her. And it did but probably not the one he was going for. "Caesar salad to start for her and House for me with the raspberry vinaigrette. And—" On top of it all, he pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his breast pocket and handed it to the man between his index and middle fingers. A smug look on his face, "the sooner you can have those out for us…" and wink at Ariadne._

_The only way Ariadne could think to respond was to go with it, plaster a gracious smile on for the waiter and hand him her menu. "So how's work," he swished around the liquid in his glass and sipped on it while Ariadne idly ran her finger along the rim of hers. "Good," nodded the woman. "I mean, you're there so you know what it's like…"_

"_Speaking of which," he sat up and clasped his hands in front of him on the table, "I had a quick idea for the first level." This was Arthur's next mistake. Work was the most common ground they had, that was how he roped her into longer conversations at the warehouse so he thought why not start a dialogue with it at the restaurant. Get her engaged in their discussion. "Here," the man pulled out a paper napkin and pen from the same pocket he pulled the waiter's bribe out of and began to draw a diagram on it in the middle of the table, "If this was the upper level and fire escape…what if we lined this with trap doors?"_

_Naturally, Ariadne hopped right into Architect mode to analyze his proposal and make it work. She thought he probably just wanted to talk about it before he forgot it. So she took the pen and marked on top of his drawing, "Well we couldn't do that with the parapets there but I could add some on this side near the mezzanine."_

"_Yeah, I think that would be best," he suggested then pushed the napkin closer to her. So she could put it in her wallet and have it for reference, "It'd provide extra cover and we need all we can get."_

_She did as he expected—tucking it away in her clutch, "Ok, I'll add it." Ariadne tried to bring the date back around into an atmosphere that felt like an actual date. She really did. She tucked some hair behind her ear (equal parts nervous and coy) "So um—" but the woman was interrupted by the waiter dropping off their salads, "—Oh, that was fast." Behind them there were murmured complaints that they'd been there a shorter time than other patrons and already had their food which most-definitely made Ariadne feel self-conscious. "They were already made," stammered the waiter to cover up the fact that he most likely gave someone else's order to them, "Uh—fresh, I can assure you Mr. De Marko." Arthur didn't realize it in the moment but Ariadne definitely wanted to slide down into her seat and hide from all the glares they were getting. That's probably why he was smiling, thanking the waiter, and ignorantly pouring dressing like an idiot. _

_Before they'd even finished their salads, their dinner was ready to go. (Probably two more plates that belonged to someone else). While they didn't have to wait an obscene amount of time to be fed, it also made their date feel rushed. It gave them little time to talk and flirt between courses because there was no in-between. They could've leisurely ate and talked during their main course but the Point Man royally screwed up again and had the waiter bring the chef out for a meet and greet. In his defense, he thought the fact that he knew the chef and they could have a private sort of interview would impress Ariadne and he _so, so, _wanted to impress her. Arthur had done most of the back and forth with the chef so he was still eating after the man returned to his duties. Ariadne however was finished and sat watching him and picking at her nails. The waiter checked on them yet again (he was so attendant because of Arthur's generous tip, they rarely had time alone). "The chef would like to bring out complimentary desserts, is there one you'd prefer?"_

_Ariadne's eyes slid to Arthur. Waiting for his answer since he clearly was the only one with a say in what they ate. "Anything chocolate," he smiled. He didn't even at look at Ariadne…he just—God, he was bad at dating. "What sort of pastries do you hav—"_

"_Tell the chef, thank you very much. I appreciate the gesture but we won't be needing dessert," Ariadne finally had enough and spoke up. It wasn't rude or facetious but it wasn't completely genuine. It was clipped. "We're stuffed from the spectacular first two courses. Could you bring the bill please?" The waiter's face fell slightly because he understood well before Arthur that Ariadne had not had a pleasurable time. He scurried off to fetch the ticket which left Ariadne to down the rest of her glass and look at a puzzled Arthur. "I'm gonna go to the restroom. I'll be right back," her tightlipped smile was reminiscent of the one she gave Eames when she was sick of him calling her angel-face and babycakes. Most of the time she was fine with it but sometimes when she was extremely stressed she felt the pet names were patronizing. Preceding her exit to the restroom, she pulled a hundred out of her wallet and dropped it in front of Arthur, "That should cover my half."_

_Only then did Arthur look back and think—he was in deep shit._

xxxxxxxxx

"Wow," was plainly drug out by Chloe, sitting on a stool in front of the oven. Chin in hands, watching the frittatas cook through the small oven window. "I love you, Uncle Arthur, but you're not very romantic…"

"Not at first, I wasn't. But I really am now," The Point Man was chopping up lettuce for a salad to go with dinner. On the counter next to the salad bowl sat freshly washed tomatoes, cucumbers, container of bleu cheese and a jar of olives waiting to be added to the mix. Chloe picked all the extra ingredients out but Arthur didn't think it was a bad combination. "Besides, what do you know about romance? You're eight."

"_And a half." _Chloe emphasized over her shoulder. She sighed when she turned back to the oven. See, she'd been counting down the minutes and it'd only been eight out of thirty. Watching the dough slowwwwly rise was almost as lackluster as Uncle Arthur's vague retelling. "If I'm falling asleep hearing about it, I know she was falling asleep during it. No offense."

Arthur grimaced and clicked his tongue because hey, the kid was right. "None taken."

"When did she start to _love _you? When did you get exciting?" Chloe got up and laid stomach down on the stool, her arms and legs touching the floor, her head hanging down, "Get to the good part."

"Love happens over a longer period of time than one night," the man made sure to educate her on that fact. The first tomato was rolled onto his cutting board to be sliced and diced, "But I think maybe she started to really like me when I bought her a cheeseburger."

For no other reason than to keep herself entertained, Chloe kicked her legs, rotated her arms and balanced on her stomach on the stool. Pretending to swim. "A cheeseburger would be the way to my heart too." If Arthur had looked back and seen her he would've cracked up—then corrected her on the proper mechanics of a forward stroke.

xxxxxxxx

_Arthur instantaneously fished out his cell and rung up the Extractor. As soon as the line picked up, he rushed, "Dom help. She's not enjoying herself. I don't know what to do."_

_He heard the squeak of Dom's chair and papers shuffling and realized Cobb must've still been working at the warehouse. "Well, relay what you've done real quick." _

_So Arthur—in as much detail as he could get into in a short period of time—described how the dinner had gone so far. Every look, every word, every minute motion he could cram in while cautiously watching the direction of the bathroom. "You didn't," groaned his friend, "Arthur, tell me you're kidding about all this."_

"_Why?" Had it really been that horrible? He followed the online guidelines for wooing a female without fault. Arthur stared in horror at her empty seat while Dom broke the news to him in a less than gentle manner. "Because that sounds like a business dinner not a date. She not only asked for the check early but paid for half of it to get out faster…What the hell is wrong with you? Unless you're _trying _to get Ariadne uninterested, you're doing it wrong. Sounds like you've talked to the chef more than each other and—ordering for her? It's _Ariadne. _Have you met the woman? She likes to talk over men not be muted by them—" _

"_Oh God, I'm screwed," The Point Man face-palmed and ignored the waiter as he brought the bill and topped off their waters, "What do I do? How do I fix it?" _

"_Think about _her_. Don't worry about what you've read that women like or what the internet says a perfect date is…that won't work with Ariadne, she's one of a kind. Go with the flow. Flirt."_

"_She's coming back," he whispered and hung up without thanks or goodbye._

_Ariadne begrudgingly let Arthur give her cash back and toyed on her phone while waiting for him to finish up and bid adieu to his (many) friends at the restaurant—_

"Uncle Arthur, you're killing me here…" the child now laid on the floor in front of the oven. Her two oven-mitted hands serving as a pillow, her foot drawing figure eights in the air. "When are you gonna make up for this disaster?"

There was a scrape from his knife pushing the cucumbers off the cutting board and into the bowl, "I'm getting there."

Chloe switched feet as her right one was falling asleep, "You sure are taking the long way around."

"You wanted _every_ detail," he reminded melodically, teasing her. He wasn't giving her very many actually. He vaguely outlined their conversations. Arthur refrained from most romantic detail too because to go into it with Chloe was sort of weird. He kept it generic. Things like 'I gazed into her eyes, brushed her cheek and whispered' he opted to describe to Chloe as: 'I smiled and apologized.' "Anyways. We walked outside to the valet…"

_It was after Arthur gave the ticket to the valet to pull his car around and they were left alone (Practically. The stragglers in and out didn't count) that Arthur turned into her and asked sheepishly, "Can we start over?" Ariadne looked up from her cell, curiously, and then dropped it into her clutch with her eyebrows asking the questions. Arthur pulled his restless hands out of his pocket and gestured to relieve tension. "I've been so concentrated on impressing you with clichés and grandeur that I've been a jackass. I've been going about this like I'm taking a test instead of," and he realized he was doing exactly what he was apologizing for. They were on a date. Why was he standing a foot away? Why was he using his diplomatic Point Man voice and moving his hands about as if demonstrating a visual aid? Taking quick measures to rectify it, Arthur stepped closer, lowered his chin and his voice and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "instead of being romantic." _

_Already, there was a shift. Already, he was gaining his ground back. Ariadne's cheeks flushed a delicious pink and her eyes fluttered to the ground, shying away from his smoldering gaze. Arthur found he was good at this…this tender stuff. Using the hand that tucked her hair, Arthur caressed her jaw to her chin and lifted it to make her look at him again. He whispered, "I'm sorry. I know I've done everything all wrong."_

_First, she bit her lip. Next, she shrugged and brushed it off, "It's ok."_

"_No, it's not. I really—" The valet could've taken another minute…but Arthur's car slid in front of them. He traded the keys for the tip then rushed to get the door before she opened it herself. "I really like you and I really want you to like me."_

_Ariadne turned around with face full of amusement which only slightly faltered when she realized how close Arthur was and that his arms were—in essence—encircling her by pressing on the hood of the car on either side of her. "I do," confessed the woman. "Why do you think I sat through that god awful dinner for two hours? Anyone else, I would've faked getting sick or crawled out the bathroom window." Arthur failed in camouflaging the breath he sucked in when she fixed the fold of his lapel, "I was hoping you'd turn it around."_

_A car pulled up behind them and forced the two to get into the car. As Arthur shifted gears and pulled off he asked, "Can I have another chance?"_

"_What do you have in mind?" she punctuated with the click of her seatbelt—_

Both relieved they'd finally reached the end and excited that the story ultimately ended up happy, Chloe enthusiastically cut in, "And_ then_ you bought her the cheeseburger?" That's really the event she was anticipating since he started.

Arthur pulled the frittatas from the oven and set the pan on a rack to cool, "Then I bought her the cheeseburger and we ate them and talked in a park."

Chloe got two forks while Arthur got out two plates and glasses. "And she fell in love with you."

"Started to," he corrected, "maybe."

Watching him put salad onto her plate as she held it, the little girl smiled slyly, pushing, "Did you kiss? On the _lips?_"

Arthur kept it short while forking a couple frittatas onto her plate next to the greens, "Yes." It felt more and more uncomfortable like he was back in the warehouse being interrogated during one of Eames' questionnaires.

"Oooooooooooooh," she squealed and skipped to the table, "She _loved_ you!"

"Ok, ok," he good-humoredly changed subjects. Maybe Chloe didn't realize she'd used the past tense but it stuck out like a sore thumb to him. Especially after his nightmare the night before. "Let's talk about what we want to do tomorrow."

xxxxxxx

_Ariadne picked the pickle chips off her cheeseburger and popped them in, "What do you mean you've never had a rebellious period? Everyone has one." They (mostly Ariadne) were using his jacket to lay on out in the grass at a park. He'd finished his burger and fries already and was lying on his back. Ariadne was working on her bag of food, lying on her stomach, looking down at him next to her with her feet kicking._

_The closest thing Arthur could relate with was: "Junior year I tried to slack and get an A minus—"_

"_A-minus was slacking?_" the girl teased with her shoulder and a smirk.

"_But in the end, I couldn't do it." He crossed his arms over his stomach, "It was torturing me more than it was going to torture my parents so…" using the trailing off of his sentence, the man segued, "well, what about you, Ms. Bourgeois? What'd you do? Steal motorcycles, smoke," he gently tugged on her tresses, "dye your hair purple?"_

_Ariadne took a bite and spoke while chewing, "My hair was blue, thank you."_

_Arthur wasn't expecting that. He sat up on his elbows, "What?"_

"_Only for like two months. It was a dare." Peeling her burger wrapper down corner by corner, "My family was more laid back than most. It was hard to find something to make them mad with."_

_Laughing the Point Man sarcastically agreed, "Sure," dragging the word out. _

"_Ok…my mom was a vegetarian and she sort of raised me to eat the same." Arthur looked pointedly at the food in her hand which garnered a bop on the head with the bottom of her fist. "So when I was like fifteen and wanted to make her mad I snuck out and ate meat. My boyfriend would be pick me up at like 2 am and drive me through McDonalds," at his desperate attempt to silently snicker without detection (she was look at him, she could see his face!) Ariadne laughed and swore, "I'm not kidding! Oh that was another thing, I dated—"_

_Arthur plucked the burger from her hand ("_HEY NOW, sir.") _as he spouted a list of guesses with eyebrows that waggled and grin that looked grossly like Eames. "A guitar player. Skater boy, drug dealer—"_

"_No." The woman glared at him. Or rather the hand holding her cheeseburger. "Principal's son-slash-quarter back."_

_His face twisted in confusion, "That's not bad."_

"_Of our rival school," she added, twirling two fries in the air. If he wouldn't give her last burger back, she'd occupy herself with the last of her greasy potato sticks. "Yeah. Our town was hardcore about their high school football teams…" the fries were tucked beneath her fingers like a cigarette and waved around theatrically, "it was a very bohemian, Romeo and Juliet type thing. I'm French, it was totally melodramatic." They popped into her mouth shortly after completion of her sentence._

"_Romeo and Juliet…" Arthur rolled to his side, "then what does that make us?"_

_Ariadne thought she could take advantage of the position and snatch her burger back but Arthur's quick reflexes held it out of her reach. She huffed, "R2D2 and—" out of nowhere his empty fry carton was chucked at her face. "Dorothy and the _Tin Man_?"_

_He scoffed jokingly, "I buy you five cheeseburgers and you call me heartless?"_

"_You're holding one hostage," she practically whined and pointed at the hostage in question. "And the tin man had a heart all along…" perhaps if she batted her eyelashes, he'd give in. To no avail. Arthur hid it behind his back so she pouted, "I don't know. Arthur and Guinivere…?"_

"_Guinivere cheats on him with Lancelot!"_

"_I've been meaning to tell you…when I went to the bathroom at the restaurant," biting her lip, she fixed him with a sultry-look and taunt, "Me and Eames—"_

"_That's not funny!" he poked her side, "Don't ever," then rolled her over so he could pin her below him. "Come on, who are we like?" His voice's octave unintentionally dropped to a husky level as awareness kicked in and Arthur could feel her stomach rising and falling against his with each breath. He fought back the urge to press harder into her, instead appeasing himself and braving a brush of her shoulder with his thumb._

_She breathed, "I don't know." The aura around them sobered up substantially as soon as they realized how close their faces were, that they were essentially breathing each other's air._

"_Mal and Cobb?" was the Point's suggestion. His worst fear all of a sudden transformed into his greatest dream. In a way, he wanted to be like them with Ariadne. He wanted to share the language of lovers, wanted that glassy look in her eyes, wanted to be tortured by her touch. _

_Right away, though, Ariadne shook her head adamantly, "I'm not like her." _

"_Who said _you_ would be Mal?" The shiver he felt her try to camouflage as he tucked a hair behind her ear (for the second glorious time that night) "_I'd_ be the one blindly following anywhere you led. It'd be easy to get lost in you."_

_Because the onslaught of intimacy was such a contrast to the distances Arthur struggled to keep, Ariadne felt the need to make things lighter. If for nothing else but so she wouldn't combust from the butterflies his intense gaze gave her, "Great. So I get the guilt."_

"_You get to stay alive. With our two children."_

_Ariadne laughed, "Two children? We're moving incredibly fast there, aren't we?"_

_Arthur shrugged, "Have to make up for lost time; we wasted a year and a half skirting around the bush with stolen glances."_

_He didn't miss her flickering glance at his lips or the sly upturn of hers, "And tricky kisses."_

"_And offering to hook you to the PASIV just for an excuse to touch you," the soft patch on the inside of her wrist got a fleeting caress. Arthur was getting bolder. Which he guessed came with the territory of falling under her spell. _

_Squinting, the Architect confessed, "I don't want to be like them…"_

"_No, you're right. Neither do I." The forgotten cheeseburger in the hand by one of her shoulders was held in front of her mouth so she could take a bite. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what _our_ story is."_

_Ariadne hummed happily as she chewed. "What about…" taking her beloved burger back in one hand and making the hair on the back of Arthur's neck stand up by cupping his face with her other, she joked, "Optimus Prime and—" _

"_You're insufferable," Arthur rolled off of her to the tune of her roaring laughter._

Xxxxxxx

"That's enough—that's enough!" Arthur panicked over the rush of the faucet, hands outstretched to take the bottle of dish soap away from the child. "You only need a drop or two."

Chloe gave the bottle one last squeeze then placed it back in its rightful spot, squealing gleefully, "I know but I wanted more bubbles!" They observed the tower of suds rise from the pot (and pan) with polar opposite attitudes about it. Arthur watched on with a grimace; he was nearly sick to his stomach about the mess that would ensue. He pictured the dirty dish water overflowing onto the counters and floor, predicted he and his niece would be slipping and sliding and breaking bones soon. Chloe watched on with a grin; she imagined all the suds breaking apart and floating into the air, falling like snow. (She hadn't thought about the water.)

Before the soapy water spilled out of the pot (the bubbles were already multiplying and foaming in the bottom of the sink and creating a mountain at the top of the pot almost like it was boiling over), Arthur cut the water off. "Aw…" Chloe muttered but didn't comment otherwise—that would be pushing it.

"That's more soap than necessary." The pot felt ten tons heavier filled with water when Arthur heaved it upwards to pour some of it out. It gurgled down the drain on one side of the sink. The other side groaned like it was going to burp up the excess. To Chloe it sounded like the wonh wonh wonh of a trombone sucking the fun out of everything. "Come on, let's leave them to soak." Arthur took the cloth he'd cleaned the counters with and did one final run over the granite around the sink. He slung it on his shoulder, intending to throw it in the laundry closet basket as he passed by.

The stool screeched along the floor behind him and then there was a loud, "Arthur Nicholas Talesco." It was Chloe's voice just forced into a lower key (that she could barely hold) and struggling to sound gruff and manly. With raised eyebrows, Arthur slowly pivoted to see what shenanigan she was pulling now. He sputtered a laugh when he saw her. Bubbles on her chin, jaw and above her lip. A pale and sudsy goatee. Chloe was standing with straight rigid posture on top of the stool, hands folded behind her back. "Did I give you express permission to leave the kitchen?"

"No?"

"That's "Sir, no, Sir" to you," she pointed harshly, "In the Talesco house we have very strict rules for manners."

_Oh_, now Arthur got it. How on earth didn't he get it before? It was too clear a spitting image now. Chloe was imitating his father (her grandfather). Retired military, hardnosed, general extraordinaire. The Point clicked his feet together and saluted her, "My apologies. Sir, Dad, Sir."

Chloe crossed her arms and ordered, "Drop and give me twenty, Soldier."

"How about…" he slowly walked to her "I just give you…" Chloe screamed quite unlike his father when he snatched her off of the stool, the bubbles on her face sliding off and hanging mid-air for a second like in a cartoon, "TICKLES!" Her guttural laughs exploded through the air like rays of sunshine.

Chloe gasped between giggles, squirming, "No! Uncle Arthur! This is unjust warfare!" She slid out of his grasp to the ground and regulated her breathing while he coolly let her alone, moved the stool out of the middle of the kitchen, and went to the sink. Hands in little claws by her face, she tiptoed behind him sneakily. Unluckily, Arthur turned around with hand full of suds before she made it to him. For a second she froze and returned his bemused stare. THEN SHE POUNCED! And tickled his stomach. That scratchy way kids do when they think you're going to topple over but really it just kinda hurts.

Arthur continued standing there, sudsy hand aloft, bored look on his face. Eventually she gave up, "You're not ticklish? Are you inhuman?"

"Pretty much," shrugged the Uncle, clapping the hand of soap on top of her head which elicited a gasp. They both dove into the sink for bubbles to throw at each other, sloshing water all over the place. Arthur had a mop, it wasn't a big deal, right? It was hard to cast bubble bombs at each other because the airy foam didn't travel far when thrown so all they really succeeded in doing was making the kitchen look like snowy, lathered chaos. In a fit, of competition, Arthur forgot he was essentially fighting a kid…He grabbed the pot and poured it over her head. "I win."

Now the kitchen floor was an ocean. She chased him, their feet splashing about, spreading the flood. Arthur was laughing quite stridently and triumphantly after she retreated back and seemed to quit. The silence brought him back to the forefront though and he wondered if he'd actually really upset his niece. "Chloe, are you ok?" He turned apologetically. And there she was. Sitting on the counter by the sink holding the retractable nozzle of the sink faucet in her hand with an all too familiar sickeningly mischievous grin. "Now, Chlo…" He held up his hands in surrender. A lone clump of bubbles dropped from the top of one of the cabinets onto her soaking wet head kind of like the cherry on an ice cream. It was cute. Until she pointed the nozzle at him and cried, "FOR NARNIA AND FOR ASLAN!"

An hour or so later, both had baths and were changed into dry pajamas. A towel was wrapped and folded on Chloe's head and one hung around Arthur's neck. Due to the lake on their kitchen floor, the Uncle took to mopping it up and the Niece had towels fashioned to the bottom of her slippers. She skated back and forth along the floors, sopping water and soap up while cradling and enjoying a bowl of strawberry ice cream. "I'm pretty sure I won, old man."

"Eat your ice cream, little girl."

xxxxxxx

"_What time is it?" Ariadne asked as he walked her from the elevator to her room. Number 517, he'd never forget that number. Ariadne insisted she could walk the twelve steps from the elevator to her room out of politeness ( It felt extremely late and she knew Arthur was anal about getting the proper amount of sleep. That and Ariadne was the type of person who naturally slept like fourteen hours.) but Arthur wasn't about to say goodnight in the elevator. _

_The Point Man blew air from his cheeks and checked his watch, "4am." He was flabbergasted to be honest. Normally he kept closer track of time than that._

"_What?" she blurted a little too loudly than her neighbors probably appreciated. She fished for her key from her wallet and pushed the door open, "We talked that long? We're only gonna get like two hours of sleep before work."_

_Arthur leant against the doorframe as she kicked her wedges into the closet. His boldness in the park retreated on their ride back to the hotel so he found his ears burn in nervousness. "Do you think I've earned a second date?" Ariadne opened her mouth for a smart comment about technically going on two that night but he cut her off, "Our dinner at the Oak doesn't count. That never happened."_

_The woman chuckled at him. Distracting him enough with her shining smile that he didn't expect her to tug on his tie and press her lips to his slow and sinuous. It caused an explosion in his belly of supernova proportions and he wanted to melt into her like butter. It was over before he could. His hooded eyes fluttered open to Ariadne biting her lip in a rare fit of modesty. "What do you think?"_

_Arthur's eyes were still pulsing. His head still spinning, "I'm having trouble thinking," all he wanted was to jut his chin forward and collide with her again. But he constrained himself and asked, "Is that a yes?"_

"_It's a yes to a second date. And a third. And," she nodded, "possibly a fourth if there's ice cream involved."_

"_Ice cream will most definitely be involved."_

"_Sounds like a plan."  
><em>xxxxxxx

Normally Chloe would be in bed at this point but on the weekends Arthur was more lenient. She'd completed reading her first novel, having finished the last chapter on the way back from the Orchards and already started her next from the collection Arthur procured for her: Esperanza Rising. It was a significantly shorter book so she was already a little more than a third of the way through it. While she was engrossed in her story and with white noise from House Hunters on the tv, Arthur stole away to his bedroom and called an old friend.

"Salut?" came a raspy voice after the sixth ring.

Arthur jumped to his feet from the side of the bed and walked to his window, "Miles. Hey, it's Arthur."

"Arthur?" In the background there was shuffling and a low exchange in French. He supposed Penelope had waken and Miles was explaining the caller and going into another room so she could sleep. "Zut alors, son, do you know what time it is here?" The Point glanced down at his watch only to realize he'd taken it off before his shower. Using mental math thought, if it was eight at night in New York it was roughly two in the morning in Paris. Oops.

"I'm sorry, it won't take long." Miles didn't answer positively or negatively though his sigh hinted at the latter. So Arthur continued on, "I need you to confirm the Bourgeois' contact information for me. I'm not sure if they've been changed. I'm trying to find Ari and Ender ag—"

"_Again?" _The old man exhaled, "It's been—"

"I know how long it's been!" The Point found himself losing his temper with the Professor and it shocked him. But he hated being reminded of the time. "I gave up because I thought she wanted to be left alone but I know now that I've got to find them anyways. I've got to see them; I don't care about anything else. Can you confirm her parent's contact info for me or no?"

Hesitance. Silence equals hesitance. "I'm not sure Ari would be comfortable with my doing that."

That provoked the grind of Arthur's jaw and a sharp turn away from his window, angrily sliding the curtain back over it. Why was _everyone _on her side? Of course her family would be but Miles and Penelope? Cobb and the kids? Eames and Yusuf? Even Arthur's parents? No one was willing to give him leeway. Give him a clue or a chance. It was easy for all of them to say: 'Sorry, Art, no can do. My lips are sealed.' They were all still on close terms with Ariadne. They kept in touch, probably visited or been visited. Arthur had nothing. He didn't even have the internet at his disposal. What Arthur tangibly owned of theirs like Ari's scarf, her note, the pictures, their marriage license…those were the only things that confirmed his wife and son ever existed. That and the fact that EVERYONE was against him. "You're not technically giving me any information. I already have these numbers." The Point appealed to the side of the man that used to be his and Cobb's mentor as well (before Ariadne ever came to the college), the side of Miles that saw Arthur as a son and Ender as his grandson. "I need my family, Stephen. Even a small sliver of intel, a yes or no, will mean the world to me. Please."

"Alright."

Arthur spouted the string of numbers and to his great fortune and happiness, they remained the same. Being related to Ariadne, their information had been blacked out when hers was in order to avoid him being able to track her by association. All he had to go by was the number he'd written down in one of his notebooks (while they were still dating) labeled Shannon and Gerard B. Contact with her parents was usually through Ariadne after they'd gotten married and it could've changed since then and he wouldn't have been the wiser. He called them after she left but by using the redial on their home phone. To bring it to mind now was useless. Anyways, he thanked Miles profusely and the two hung up on a better note then they started with. Then it was time to call her parents. There wasn't a time difference between NYC and North Carolina so that made it easier. He held his breath as it rang.

And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

There was never an answer.

xxxxxxx

"_Morning, Arthur." Dom slipped into the warehouse the next day. Arthur didn't bother looking at him, opting to wave and continue typing away. All the while accusing, "Thanks a lot Dom. I'm fucked. We've only been on one date and I've told her more about me than most people know. I can't get her out of my head. Every time it's quiet I hear her, her face pops into my head randomly. I keep replaying last night over and over. It's ridiculously romantic. I feel like a pathetic high school kid counting down the minutes until I get to kiss this girl again. Like—what the hell did you make me do? I'm screwed." He swiveled his chair around to yell at Dom, "I just know I'm going to fall in love with her—"_

_And who was standing right behind him but the voice he kept hearing and the face that kept popping up. The adorable, charming, irresistible ball of energy. Flushed face and neck (which only made her that much more adorable and charming and freaking irresistible) and a bashful yet pleased closed lip smile, "Hi, Arthur."_

"_Shit. You're early today." His scalp tingled in mortification. He never intended (obviously) for her to hear any of it. He knew he must sound creepy or clingy or tragic to be that twitter-pated after _one_ date. Granted they'd known and worked together longer than that so he had that fact going for him to ease the weirdness. "Shit!" He cursed at Dom, "Why didn't you tell me she was with you?"_

_Dom shrugged and snickered (that bastard) at him, "No fun that way."_

_To change subject and hopefully extract the heat from his face, neck and ears, Arthur slid a coffee over to the corner of the desk she was closest to. "I brought your usual."_

"_Thanks." She kept smiling. And it was that smile that made him want to duck his head into the ground like an ostrich and/or pinch her cheeks and/or lay her on his desk and kiss her senseless (and maybe other things). It was a lot to handle so he requested, "Could you not look at me like that? I'm having enough trouble juggling my feelings without adding humiliation to the plate."_

"_Sorry." It made him rethink his request when Ariadne dropped it…or, wait, no it was ok. Now, she was biting her lip and making his palms all sweaty. "I'd hate to make you restart your countdown but um…" Taking a second to check if Dom was watching (he wasn't), Ariadne leaned down. Her hands on his shoulders, the look in her eyes superlative. And then she kissed him. She kissed him and it was better than the night before. It was like rising in a hot air balloon and then freefalling out of it at its peak of height. "Good morning," that look was back when she pulled away. And damn, what Arthur would give for Ariadne to talk against his mouth every single time she had to speak. From now until the end of ever. _

"_Good morning…" he hummed, relishing that he could still feel their breath mingling between them. "We have to work late tonight to make the deadline but how about that second date tomorrow night? I'll let you choose where this time. And order for yourself."_

_Ariadne chortled at him, "Sounds great."_

"_I'm very much," the two gravitated back towards each other, both sets of eyes fluttering closed at the promise of another kiss, "looking forward to it…"_

"_Never fear, the Forger is here!"_

_Ariadne's eyes popped open and she straightened so fast she almost tripped backwards. Since, he was hanging his jacket (more like tossing it in the general vicinity of the makeshift coatrack they made) as she adjusted her stance to casually lean her back against Arthur's desk, her and Arthur had hope he hadn't seen anything. "Morning Eames."_

"_Morning darling. Looking good today and Arthur you're looking all pink and jived." Still facing away from the pair, there was no way he could've known what they looked like without having saw when he danced in. He winked when he finally bout faced and headed for his desk, an exaggerated 'come hither' motion added for effect. "Ariadne, why don't you bring that attractive bum over here, I've got an idea for my level."_

"_Yeah ok." The Architect turned back to Arthur a little deflated. She gave the Point a pout (because they didn't get to kiss again) as she scooped up her coffee and put it to her lips. _

_In response, Arthur leant back in his chair and wistfully started counting, "49, 50, 51, 52…" _

xxxxxxx

Morning came quick and after watching the Food Network while waking up, Chloe was craving donuts. She slipped on a grey and white geo print skirt, thin greyish blue quarter sleeved shirt, and gauzy white summery scarf. Oh and pink and magenta striped socks and her cowboy boots. Arthur put on a casual brown suit, gold-ish tie and they headed downstairs to: First, give Max his present (he'd been off the day before) and Second, to hunt down a fun and cozy coffee and donut shoppe.

In her hurry to go have breakfast before it was deemed lunchtime (or else he'd make her eat real food), Chloe pulled him and his smile out the door before he could grab his phone off the charger. Not two minutes, after they'd vacated the apartment. His phone buzzed with the signal of a returned call.

xxxxxxx 

A scrap of Ariadne-related info will be released next chapter. Revealing a _possible _temporary location. Any ideas? Chloe's time in New York is fixing to taper to a close. Got a cute child-milestone next chapter. Also Chloe and Arthur are going to have a movie night. Votes on a specific movie (other than Annie and a cartoon)? My default's gonna be Frozen because that's just typical right now but if you have a cute movie idea send it my way! 

It was nice to have some sweeter memories of Ari/Art right? At least they weren't fighting or crying in these ^^^^


	11. DO-oh-oh-oor

_SiSi4: _No worries, whenever you can find the time, I'm happy to read them. If there just isn't any to leave a review, I understand =) Thank you for reviewing CH10 though! It's funny how he could go from a complete buffoon to a Casanova in a matter of minutes. I know! THE ONE TIME HE FORGETS SOMETHING—in his defense though, who has his number? Who ever calls him? And you're about to find out! _Bookwormgirl: _Aww, forever would be sweet. Thanks for the review girl! Here's your update. _Lauraa-x: _It's funny when I saw the first review you left and all itsaid was "Daaamn, I'm surpised" I laughed so hard because I thought that's all it was and I was like she must be super-duper surprised if that's all she said lol. Kids are always in a rush for donuts. Yeah, hahaha, Cobb basically demanded Arthur date her. He was like: You're taking the night off, you're taking Ariadne to dinner, and you're going to love it. Chloe really is a tiny old soul but that's also paired with an innocence. And it's like sometimes she opens her mouth and it's like are you thirty years old? And then she'll wonder why butter mints don't taste like butter and ask what the word persist means. It's funny. It's fun to write her because she just says the darnedest things and her half of conversations just blurt out onto the page. You'll see, you'll see! _Neverlandspirit: _Thank you =) Hope I continue to kill them softly in an entertaining way! I'm making the next couple chapters relatively sweet for spell…because I need some happiness before more angst ;) Dun Dun Dun. _CoffeeBean: _AHHH! That's literally one my favorite compliments (the canon one) I've ever received writing for this fandom, thanks! That made me super happy. Definitely. And I don't know if you read With You but I shall just warn you as I did everyone who wanted conflict and revenge on that one…be careful what you wishhhhhh forrrrrr. ;)

**Chapter 11: DOH-oh-oh-oor.**

"But America came from England," Chloe pointed out, taking the box of leftover donuts so Arthur could unlock the door. They gave one to Mr. Max on their way up; Chloe picked one out especially for him. It was shaped and iced like a football, filled with strawberry jelly and topped with chocolate sprinkles. The doorman must get really bored and hungry standing there all day…the little girl wanted to surprise him with a treat to break of the mundaneness.

"Yes," the Uncle pushed the door open and guided her inside first, "but a lot of our differences in vocabulary have to do with objects that were invented_ after_ America became independent." Before dropping his keys in the bowl, Arthur locked all the deadbolts. It might be scary for a child seeing lock after lock after deadbolt after deadbolt after chain along with a security camera out in the hall above their door and heat sensor just inside. It might be a little frightening for some children to see their guardian hide (he tried to do it discreetly but she caught him a few times) a gun in his waistband when they went out and hide it just inside the closet, in a clip that kept it close to the ceiling when they came back. (It used to be under the front table where his keys were but since Chloe had been there he moved the firearm to a location she couldn't reach so no accidents would occur.) Most kids would wonder if there was a sinister reason for all the security and be scared. Not Chloe. Not really…Uncle Arthur went about all of it like it was normal. Like part of a routine. Arthur didn't give off a paranoid vibe or duck his head in public or anxiously peek out the peephole in spurts. Chloe supposed it was just a New York thing. For all she knew, all New Yorkers did that.

Chloe slipped off her comfy slip-on bunny shoes (really only used for short distances),"The potty wasn't," and then carefully and tediously lined them up perfectly next to Arthur's. "Why don't we call it the Loo in America?"

"I don't know, Tiny, because we don't." Arthur put up his gun and tossed his wallet and keys into the bowl. Meanwhile, the child skipped to the kitchen to set the pastry box down. He said she was allowed to snack on them during the day since it was the weekend and then had a little more than half a dozen. She might eat one after dinner and definitely save one for her and Uncle Arthur for breakfast…she really wanted to bring a donut in to Ms. Baublit and Miss Willes and Katerina the next morning too. So she was going to be frugal with their leftovers. "I like the British names for things better: Pop, chips, crisps."

Arthur went the opposite way, going into his bedroom to hang his suit jacket up. He called from in front of his closet, shrugging off his top layer, "Start using them then." He saw his phone on the bedside table and was content to leave it on the charger since they were back home anyway. "I will," Chloe yelled back. But then he saw a red dot above the telephone icon. He was used to seeing several hundred on his icon for email but not for missed calls…Instead of grabbing a hanger, Arthur tossed his jacket on the bed and practically crawled across the mattress to check the notification.

Chloe was curled up on the couch with Penny, Julie, Emmett and Sandy, reading a book when Arthur sort of burst out of his room. She finished Esperanza Rising already and was onto one of the Little House On The Prairie books. Funny, she had her iPad set up on Julie's lap with the doll's hand touching the screen like she was playing on it. She propped Emmett up in such a way it looked like he was brushing Sandy's fur and of course Penny was in Chloe's arms. "Hey, Chlo, I've got to make a very important call. I'm going to close my door for a bit." The little girl didn't even look up. She ok'ed distractedly while turning the page and telling Emmett he missed a spot.

xxxxxxx

First ring, second ring, third ring, fourth ring. By the fifth, Arthur was ready to resign to a forced game of phone-tag when a woman answered, "Hello?"

Ariadne's mother! Yet, she sounded different than he remembered, "Shannon?"

"No, this is Natalie." Natalie. That was Ariadne's cousin. Her _closest_ cousin, actually. They looked like they could be sisters—and certainly acted like it. Natalie was Ariadne's maid of honor at their wedding, she flew in with Ariadne's mom when Ender was born because Ariadne insisted she needed her there too. The two girls talked on the phone at least once a week and kept online correspondence daily. Natalie was two years older than Ariadne and though they felt the same age, when Natalie got protective it was like Ari or 'Addy' (the Architect's family used the last half—the Adne part of her name—as a nickname while she was growing up) was her little sister. Natalie had a younger brother named Wesley. He and Arthur got along famously all the times they were thrown together. Arthur used to keep up with Wes about once a month like he did with Cobb. But those relationships fell through long before Arthur and Ariadne's had. "Can I ask whose calling?" The woman sounded bored. Like she was reciting her response for the eighteen millionth time. As if her job was to sit by the phone and tell people these exact two sentences.

The Point winced. He expected a sharp dial-tone as soon as he revealed himself, "Nat, it's Arthur."

"What?" No hang-up. But her half-way decent attitude dropped considerably. "Why are y—"

"I need to speak with Shannon or Gerard," interrupted Arthur. He felt it extremely urgent that he get to the point before she came to her full senses and remembered how much she despised him for hurting her cousin and…well, second cousin.

Natalie answered him like he was stupid, "They're not here. That's why I answered the phone; I'm taking care of the house and Fletcher (their Cocker Spaniel) while they're—" then she paused abruptly. She couldn't very well leave the sentence at that (he wouldn't be surprised if she did anyways) so she mumbled through as casually as possible, "um...away." First rule of lying: don't pause and hem-haw around while blatantly searching for a plausible fib.

"Would you mind giving me their cell phone numbers?" Arthur was smart enough to know that no matter what the circumstances, Natalie would avoid giving him any form of contact information but he pushed anyway.

"They…" There was that pause again. "They're not really available. What is this about?"

Arthur suspected either one of Ariadne's parents were in the room with Natalie, coaching her. If they wanted to play that game, if they wanted to lie, he'd just ask questions until he caught them in one or they hung up. What did he have to lose? "What do you mean they're not available?"

Natalie huffed. To tell or not to tell. And if she told, what _should _she tell? It shocked Arthur that some real concrete information came spilling out of the receiver. "We've had a bit of a Bourgeois family crisis. Aunt Shannon and Uncle Gerry are—" Another pause. "They're—they're indisposed." Not only did she stutter but she grunted at the end as if she was angry with herself for giving him even the vaguest of facts.

It was actually very lucky, Arthur happened to get Natalie on the phone. Her contact information was blacked out with the rest of Ari's family. By knowing her he knew how to manipulate her into giving him intel without realizing it. How to get Natalie flustered enough to rattle on accidentally. How to get her so infuriated with him (which was as easy as simply being himself) that she told him off and gave clues while she was at it. Her and Ariadne were very much alike that way. They could hold their tongue really well until you got them pissed off. Then it was like vomit. Perhaps it was unfair. But Arthur sort of gave up caring about 'fair' when he decided to look for his wife and child again. He inquired further about Shannon and Gerard, "Are they ok? What kind of a crisis?" Getting her confused with all the questions. Not that he didn't care about them, they still felt like family after all. But his questions served a dual purpose.

"It's a health related thing—"

Health related…Ariadne would most definitely be in contact with her family members back home. If serious or severe enough, Ariadne wouldn't hesitate to fly out and be by her parents' sides. So he grilled. Going through a list he composed in three seconds flat off the top of his head, "Not a stroke…"

"No."

"Heart attack?"

"No."

"Nothing terminal, I hope…"

"No. They—There was an accident." Then Natalie gasped, "Shit—" Bingo. It wasn't a lie. Shannon and Gerard weren't somewhere in the background directing Natalie during the conversation; they really must've been hurt. How he knew? Easy, she cussed. It was very genuine, however, when Arthur said, "Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that. How are they? How is Ari coping with her parents' situation?" And there was honestly no ulterior motive when he offered, "If there's any way I can be of assistance to the family—"

Annoyed with him for obvious reasons and annoyed with herself for blurting, Natalie was spiteful, "Why did you call?"

"I'm trying to find Ariadne again."

"You're kidding, right?" Arthur could hear the eye roll, "Arthur, after all this time…" And her protectiveness came in full throttle. He knew she wanted to slap him or push him down some stairs and that was understandable. _He_ hated himself, why wouldn't her family and friends hate him equally as much. Natalie was livid to the point of yelling, "You don't—" and vicious to the point of hissing, "It's a lost cause at this point."

"Why?" Admittedly, that cut Arthur. It seemed every time he felt a semblance of hope, someone reminded him that it was futile. He had to ask. It wasn't conducive but he couldn't stop himself, "Is she with someone?"

The woman chided, "Not necessarily but still."

"I'm not giving up."

"Well, I'm not giving in." Then she started yelling again, "You don't deserve her! And she doesn't need you flying over and creating drama for her and the rest of our family!" Flying over? Her and the family? Ariadne was with the family? That meant she was somewhere in the Carolinas then; she had to be. At least temporarily. Maybe he didn't get a phone number or her home or email address. Nothing permanent to link to her and Ender…but something temporary was still something. "How long are they expecting Shannon and Gerard to be—_indisposed_?" Or better put in his head: 'how long should I expect Ariadne to be there?'

"I don't know. It's hard to say. Guessing a pretty long while."

Arthur allowed a huge smile. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach were involuntary. "Well, thank you for calling me back."

"I didn't know it was you," scoffed Natalie.

"Take care."

Brief run down. From what he gathered, Ariadne's parents had been in an accident and were—he assumed hospitalized since they weren't home. Natalie was house and dog sitting so they were somewhere else. As their only child, Ariadne and Ender were more than likely in North Carolina with the family to help out. Their condition couldn't be great if there was no telling when they'd be back home…and while that was horrible and he wished them the best, he truly did, that gave him time. That meant Ariadne and Ender could be there a while. _That_ meant, he could comfortably finish out the next two weeks with Chloe without anxiety over possible missed opportunity. After her recital, he could send her back to California and fly out to the Bourgeois'. It was imperative he stayed and finished out this time with his niece. It wouldn't be fair to pull her out of camp and send her home early because of this new information (which technically wasn't sound. There was no confirmation they were there at all. It was assumption) so he couldn't do that Chloe. He wouldn't even consider it.

He _would _just take her with him to North Carolina after it was all over but there were several problems keeping him from letting her come along. One, was his parents. They would know something was up when she didn't come home on time and he couldn't handle both a Talesco and a Bourgeois confrontation at once. The other reason was because he'd be entirely distracted by Ariadne and Ender, either way it went and didn't want her to feel like a fourth wheel because she wasn't. But their reunion could be so extraordinary he didn't have eyes for anyone else (he wouldn't be able to let go of his wife and son after years apart) or it could go so horribly wrong and he couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be a sputtering, drunken, breakdown. If all went well, when things were settled down and his family was mended as best it could be, he'd bring her back to visit and maybe to stay. He and Ariadne could talk about it. And if things didn't go well, if the cause really was lost, well…Arthur would definitely bring Chloe back take steps to get custody. It might be a fight with his parents for it—but then again, it may not be considering his parents.

Meantime, regardless of all else, it was time to plan ahead and book a trip.

xxxxxxx

"_Arthur…" A sniffly, teary, pitiful Architect let her body fall sideways into him and squeezed his waist. They were curled up on the couch in the living room, her snuggly rainbow dotted throw blanketed over them. _

_Arthur was having trouble staying awake out of boredom. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, waking him up just as he was beginning to doze, "What?"_

"_I just don't understand," she whined. Parts heartbroken, parts enraged. Her tears created a warm wet spot on the neck of his t-shirt. He comforted her by rubbing her upper arm, "Don't understand what, Baby?"_

_Just like that, he was blitzed by her resentment. Ariadne slapped his chest and sat up off of him, basically yelling, and shaking her hand in the air, "How he could be so cruel and betray him like that! They're brothers! Family should love each other." Her fists were wound so tight, her knuckles were turning white. Her glare was hard and unforgiving with her growl, "He's such an asshole!" To release tension, she punched Arthur in the shoulder._

_The Point Man tried to coax her into relaxing. He took both her hands in his and held them down in her lap. Calmly murmured her name (with a bit of gentle warning), "Ariadne."_

_Her hands wriggled for freedom and when accomplished: "I hate you!" The Architect wasn't talking to her husband of course. She was gutturally screaming at the screen she just hurled a turquoise throw pillow at._

"_Ari, babe," Now he held her like a hug to keep her arms down and keep her from getting too worked up. He shushed her, smoothing her hair, kissing her temple, successfully getting her anger to subside. "It's just a movie. It's not a big deal."_

_Then Ariadne was right back to sobbing. Out and out, ugly, red-faced sobbing. Her eyes swelled with tears, "How could you say that? It's life changing. Now poor Simba thinks it's his fault…" Talking to the tv again, she reassured and consoled the cartoon with a shaking head, "it's not, sweetie. Don't run away."_

_Arthur sighed and resolved to sit back and rub her back, "I really wish you'd stop watching Lion King while you're pregnant." As many cravings as she had for food to eat, she had for things to watch. For instance, they watched Lion King every two days (if he was lucky it stayed on that schedule. She went one day in their bedroom seeing just how many times in a day she could watch it). Also in rotation were Ratatouille (which always gave her a craving for ratatouille. When he saw her pop it in the dvd player, he automatically headed down to Gustav's and got her a full size plate), The Help (she was a mess during that one too), Sleepless in Seattle (the entire time she watched that one she was on the phone with Natalie), Monsters Inc. and World War Z (when she was feeling angry and violent). Lion King though…that was the staple. He hated it when she cried. Absolutely hated it. No matter what over, even something as trivial as a broken nail, he hated it. Arthur wanted her happy always. So he pointed to the tv and tried to enthusiastically call her attention to the Hakuna Matata scene, "Look, look. That rat and pig are fixing to sing that song you like to hula dance to."_

"_Oh I love this part," Like a switch she sat up with a smile and after a beat or two began bobbing her head to the beat. And she was merry as could be until halfway through the song when she paused and covered her mouth, "Oh my God, Simba grew so fast. Our baby is going to grow up that fast. I already feel time slipping away."_

_Arthur continued petting her soothingly, "I promise you our baby won't grow up as fast as Simba."_

"_How do you know?" pouted Ariadne._

"_Because that was a twenty second montage, Sweetheart. We'll have years."_

_The Point Man observed as the Architect tilted her head and thought about that while staring at the moving pictures on the television. A good minute later, she looked up at him innocently and in all seriousness said: "I want a Pride Rock in our backyard." _

xxxxxxx

Arthur sat with mug of coffee in hand, Chloe (who was holding a mug of hot chocolate in hers) tucked into his side, and surrounded by every toy she owned. Her Lalaloopsy Dolls, Sandy, Emmett, Julie, Penny, everyone was comfy and enjoying a snowy musical extravaganza. After dinner, Chloe begged Arthur to have a movie night before bed. So Uncle Arthur whipped together some beverages and popped two buckets of extra butter movie popcorn while Chloe got her friends admitted into in the living room and seated comfortably and made the couch comfy. She did that by getting the pillows from her bed and arranging them with the sofa's throw pillows in a way that made it plush everywhere you moved. There'd been a lot of hoopla and critical acclaim over this children's movie so Arthur was interested in seeing if it lived up to expectations. Two of the main characters that he knew of were voiced by Broadway veterans and that seemed to solidify some of the movie's credibility. 'Best since Lion King' the reviews claimed…he wondered what Ari thought about that. So far it was entertaining enough…and the music was…good. Not like some stupid morning kids' tv shows whose music seemed to rot your brain. There was an orchestral background and exposition and great singing (what he could hear over Chloe trying to sing everyone's parts at once) yeah, he was impressed. He didn't realize he was nodding along (with a facial expression that closely resembled a smile) until Chloe pointed it out. Besides the cartoon thing, it was engrossing for adults as well. He was glued to the screen from the First Time In Forever reprise through the end.

("Wait, what just happened. That can't happen to Anna. This is awful. This is supposed to be a kids movie…where's the happy ending?" "Calm down, Uncle Arthur. Just keep watching.")

When that was over, they regrouped. Took bathroom breaks and put in her go-to. Annie. As a nightly tradition. Except during that one they both fell into a contented deep sleep before it was halfway through. Next time Arthur woke it was that time of day when late night turns into early morning and Chloe was shaking him fervently and urgently, "Uncle Arthur!"

"Chloe?!" he blinked awake, "What's wrong?" Then he hopped into panic mode and grabbed her shoulders when he saw blood on her chin and her palms. The Uncle grasped her hands and turned them over to survey them and took her chin to turn her head and examine for where the injury was. What had she done? Fallen down, ran into something; His first thought was broken glass. "Why are you bleeding?"

Simply, twisted to pluck something from the coffee table and stated proudly, "I lost a tooth! Number seven!" She smiled and opened her mouth wide pointing to somewhere in her mouth. Arthur couldn't really see it was dark save for the dvd player's screensaver. "It's a pretty one, look!" It was definitely unexpected when she dropped her tooth (with a little dried blood in the top, mind you) into his empty, open, palm. His OCD tendencies made him react by jumping back and shaking the tooth from his hand, "Chloe! That's unsanitary—"

That's when Chloe panicked, "Don't drop it!" She heard it click when it landed on the wood floor and it sounded like it bounced or something. It could've gone anywhere. Her jaw dropped to the ground as she looked at Arthur horrifically, "I needed it!" She dropped to her hands and knees on the ground (nearly hit her head on the coffee table, Arthur worried) and felt at the floor for it. He could hear his niece's crocodile tears forming from the shaky sound of her voice, "Oh, now, I _really _have a lost tooth…"

Arthur grimaced and stretched across the couch to turn some lamps on for light. He got down on the floor with her and crawled around, using his phone screen to light up the area underneath the couch. "Look where all the germs are compiling."

"You can't see germs," Chloe complained and corrected at the same time. Arthur picked her doll up from where she was seated on the ground and chucked her to the couch to see better. Chloe cried, "Julie! Watch her hair!"

"There." Arthur pointed. It was under the sofa within his arm's reach if he stretched. But first— "Wait, let me get a napkin." He did better than a napkin, he found a pair of disposable gloves, a plastic bag and two medical face masks (there was dust, dead skin cells and who knows what else under that couch) while Chloe got a real flashlight from his bedside table and quickly taped it to one of her hats. Thus began the toothy rescue mission. They pulled the coffee table back, donned their masks and laid in front of the couch on their bellies. Chloe shined her 'head lamp' in the direction and angle Arthur requested. Precise and cautious, the Uncle extended his arm, careful not to touch the floor and dirty his gloves. His hand hovered between the bottom of the furniture and the wood. He should really Swiffer under this tomorrow… the tooth was at last secured between his thumb and index finger firmly. He then steadily extricated the object from under the couch and placed it in the bag. Chloe pulled her mask down from her mouth and clapped, "Bravo."

She thought he was going to wash it off. It was already sorta bloody and needed it anyway and then it got dirty and that wasn't acceptable if she was going to exchange it. Instead of washing it he opened the cabinet, rolled out the trash can and—"No no no no!" She dramatically dropped to her knees for the second time and grabbed onto the sides of the trashcan.

"What—"

Chloe's head shook, "_What_ are you _doing_!?" Her head followed the bag as he waved it around while he talked (not mean-spiritedly, he was merely gesturing with the hand holding it), "Throwing it away. You don't need it anymore."

"Of course I _need _it," she snatched it from him and held it to her chest. Ok…she was an eccentric child but this was a new level. He tilted his head after rubbing his face, "You collect your baby teeth?" The little girl said it was number seven, right? What, did she drop them in a jar or piggy-like tooth bank? Did she line them up on her desk…And was that a normal thing for kids now-a-days? Ender was still growing in teeth when Arthur left; The Point hadn't experienced this phase of parenting. Then again, by now, Ender was surely starting to lose baby teeth or fixing to. "I can't really see the benefit in th—"

"No. I trade them to the tooth fairy for collectable coins. Duh."

The tooth what? He repeated. Lost. Maybe it was a little girl thing? "The tooth fairy?"

Chloe nodded her head respectfully, "Yes. You don't know the tooth fairy?" No. Not really. When Arthur and Greg lost teeth as kids their parents just tossed them in the trash. His mom sometimes took a picture with them holding it if it was a special tooth. Like the first baby tooth, the last, molers. But then they threw the tooth away. No more fanfare and certainly no mystical creature. "Oh Uncle Arthur, what am I going to do with you," she stood on her tip-toes to pat his cheek and then she started explaining. All while closing the trash cabinet and taking a seat on one of the bar stools. "See, you leave your tooth under your pillow and a note and snack by the fairy door—you don't have one, I bet."

He asked (maybe it was sardonic, maybe it wasn't) as he walked over to join her, "Does _any_one have a fairy door? Is that like a dog do—"

"I have one, you plug them into the wall." Professional, she crossed a leg over the other, "It's multi-purpose. It keeps dust from getting in your electrical sockets and uses the energy for a portal into fairy world. Or at least, that's what Mommy said."

"Ah." An eyebrow raise that he struggled not to be patronizing, "Makes perfect sense."

"Anyways…while you sleep—and you _have _to be asleep. She knows when you're not—she takes your tooth and leaves you a coin. Sometimes if it's a really pretty tooth and you used to brush it a lot, she'll give you a bunch of coins at once. I'm working on getting all 50 United States collectable quarters. I only have ten. And I have a Canadian penny with the Queen on it and a couple Euros and some British pounds obviously…"

"Obviously." He nodded along. "But how does she know you're asleep?"

"Same way Santa knows if you've been good or not…," she shrugged, "The NSA probably."

Arthur guffawed at that. "Ok, what all do we need to do?"

"You get a snack, I'll write a note."

A glance at his watch: **4:39am.** Deep breath. A few blinks. And Arthur was off to the pantry…he figured he'd be the one eating the snack for the ruse so he looked for something he was in the mood for. Not any of her fruit snacks, or fruit roll-ups or rice krispies…though those were light. A bagel? Chloe would object to that. And she wouldn't go for giving the tooth fairy a small bowl of cooked carrots…He rummaged. Corn chips? Maybe not, that didn't seem fairy-ish. He could make a Reuben sandwich or a spinach, tomato and cheese omelet. The Point Man could claim it was a fancy breakfast for the fairy. Chloe cleared her throat pointedly and Arthur pivoted in response. The child's eyes were trained on her purple lined paper as she wrote (an assortment of markers were splayed out so he assumed she was drawing a picture too) but she wordlessly pointed in front of her to the box of donuts on the counter. The Point wasn't much of a sweets man but he could go for a donut paired with the cup of coffee he was about to make. Ironic they should leave cavity inducing treats for a fairy that wants pretty, healthy, teeth. But the tooth fairy was imaginary so if Chloe wasn't going to question the logistics, certainly neither was he.

"If we don't have a fairy door, how does this work?" They walked into her bedroom. Arthur with the treat, note and tooth and Chloe with an armful of the toys and pillows she wasn't about to leave on the couch. Julie went in her doll bed, the Loopsies were dropped on her seating area, "There doesn't have to be a door, it just makes it more convenient," and Penny, Emmett and Sandy were tossed to her bed. Uncle Arthur turned the sheets down and fixed the pillows and everything so she could get in better (and it wouldn't look so messy) while she set everything out on her desk.

"You forgot to set your tooth out—" he watched from her closet, simultaneously picking out her dance clothes for the next day because they'd forgotten before dinner. That would've been a scheduling disaster in the morning.

"No, the tooth goes under my pillow." How was he supposed to get the tooth out from under her pillow as she slept? Sure, Chloe was a heavy sleeper but still that was playing with fire. He could expose the lies and break her imaginative little heart. Why did parents and guardians do this to themselves? They could've at least made it easier to succeed and told the kids they have to put the tooth in the mailbox or something. If Ari hadn't already started something like this with Ender, he was definitely suggesting they use the U.S. Postal method with Ender's baby teeth. Instead of asking why she couldn't put it somewhere with easier access (because that screamed suspicious) he asked what she wanted to wear over her dance clothes the next day: A dress which looked very much like a skirt and shirt combo. The top was normal neckline, long sleeves (thin but Arthur knew she'd have to roll them up or something because of the heat forecast tomorrow), army green with light pink fern looking leaves printed on it. There was a band of fabric at the waist made of light and dark pink posies and the skirt part was light-ish violet purple. She also sifted through and picked knee high cotton socks (over her tights, it's a wonder the child didn't burn up every day) with an ornate dark blue and light purple pattern. Then shiny black sneakers. Arthur wished he could document all of the kid's outfits to show Ariadne when he saw her. The Architect would laugh. She'd probably love Chloe's sense of style…Arthur had seen Ariadne's baby and childhood pictures. She was an interesting dresser too—I mean, a penchant for silk scarves at age six? They'd get along. Arthur could dress Ender in designer sweater vests and pinstripe blazers and Italian kids shoes…and Ariadne would be ok with it because she'd have free range dressing their niece in absolutely anything and everything.

"Alright, well hop into bed. You're going to be exhausted during dance tomorrow. Eat quickly and take a short nap during the lunch break—not too quickly so you don't get cramps," he waited for her to stick her baggy with her tooth under her pillow before pilling the covers to her chin and kissing her forehead. They exchanged 'I love you's and Arthur went to make coffee (so he could stay awake and wait for her to fall asleep so she could pretend to be a fairy that cared about her teeth).

Thirty minutes later, Chloe was snoring and thankfully had moved around in her sleep so much, the edge of the baggy hung out from under her pillow. He pocketed the note first and started on the snack (He'd already finished a cup and a half of coffee as he waited. Now on his third. Which he'd need because it looked like it was going to be time to wake up before he ever went back to sleep). Arthur was a tad squirrelly as he ate the donut. Jumped every flinch she made. He ended up finishing it standing just outside the door, sure his sips of espresso sounded like airplanes overhead. Before reentering, he fished in the change bowl for some quarters. He found a New York one, a Missouri, a Florida and a Massachusetts (hopefully they weren't some of the ones she already had). Just in case, he rummaged through his bedside table drawer; he had a silver dollar somewhere…

The Point Man didn't think about how difficult it would be to get something back under her pillow while she slept. He deduced a one-time placement would be, statistically, the safest plan versus trying to shove the coins under one by one. Therefore, he put all the coins in a baggy just like the one her tooth was in and waited until she rolled over on her side and left half of the pillow virtually free. The coins were planted. Hallelujah.

A glance at his watch: **6:21am. **He could let her sleep in a smidge longer because their good night's sleep had been interrupted. He'd take a shower, dress, cook some breakfast and wake her up at 7. He was a pro at ballet buns now, he could shave that time down to ten minutes. Give her another extra ten to sleep.

xxxxxxx

They'd eaten breakfast first thing after Chloe woke up. They usually ate it last thing before they left for the day but didn't want it to get cold since it was already done. Then since he was in the kitchen, he made her lunch as she dressed. Now they were in his bathroom. "I mean it's crazy." Side by side in front of the sink. "What?" His hair was wet when he got ready and it'd dried funny as he cooked breakfast, Chloe's hair was in a simple, brushed, pre-bun and product ponytail. Arthur was finishing up his shave, "We finish each other's—" and Chloe was brushing her teeth with pink, fluoride-included, toothpaste, "Sandwiches!" The Point rinsed his razor in fake surprise, "That's what I was gonna say!"

Her mouth was all foamy but she paused and used her toothbrush as her mic: "I've never met someone.

"Who thinks so much like me."  
>"Who thinks so much like me."<p>

Pointing his razor and her toothbrush at each other they jumped:  
>"Jinx! Jinx again! Our mental synchronization can have but one explanation: You— were just meant to beeee…."<br>"Jinx! Jinx again! Our mental synchronization can have but one explanation: —and I— just meant to beeee…."

"Say goodbyyyyyyyyye…." Chloe sang than rinsed and spat her toothpaste into the basin, "to the pain of the past."

And Arthur wet the washcloth to wipe the shaving cream off his face, "Say goodbye to the pain of the past."

As Arthur patted his face dry and applied his aftershave, Chloe rinsed her toothbrush off, set in the cup next to his and wiped her mouth off with another hand towel both going at it with the characters playing from her iPad, "Love is an open doooooooooor, Love is an open doooooooor! Life can be so much more—"

"With you!" The little girl cupped her hands next to each other and held them towards Arthur—whom squirted hair gel in them, "With you!" She watched, "With you!" while her Uncle Arthur squirted a generous amount into his palm, "With you!"

And making the cutest, over-exaggerated, mischievous smirks at each other, they rubbed their respective hands together, singing: "Love is an open—" Smoothly looking at themselves in the mirror as they slicked their hair back: "Door…"  
>"DOH-oh-oh-oor…"<p>

Xxxxxxxx

Um cuteness right? How about this Ariadne/Ender location theory? Sad about her parents but maybe lucky for Arthur? I feel like there's no way Ariadne wouldn't fly home to be with her parents if they were in a bad accident and hospitalized, if for no reason than to keep them company while they healed and pay the hospital bills. Ariadne was/is Arthur's contrast in being completely family oriented/family first. But would she bring Ender with her for something scary and upsetting like that though? Idk. If she left him, who would she possibly leave him with…?

I don't think it's a spoiler to say that within two _maybe_ three chapters, Chloe's seven weeks will be up. We've got a costume fitting, a dress rehearsal and a showcase to have. Are you guys sad to possibly see her go home? I hope so because my mission was to make you all love her to pieces. Her outfit described at the end is top left on the six-picture collage posted a while ago.

Face-claim for Natalie and Arthur and Chloe's shoes lined up next to the door (SO ADORABLE) are linked on my profile. ;) 


	12. Ariadne is Magic

_SiSi4: _Yes, luck was on our guy's side with that call. Yeah it would be nice if he got custody of her either way…I think you'll like this chapter. And you're absolutely right, Arthur had a lot of work to do regardless. But I think he's capable ;) Oops, I jinxed my fast updates. Sorry this one took a while. _Neverlandspirit: _Ariadne! I can't wait to write her again as much as you can't wait to see her again! Chloe's that kid that's a hot mess but everyone can't help but love anyway. Mm..._is_ she really? _Lauraa-x: _They're pretty bloody adorable, yeah. Yes, bad accident. =( Natalie meant that he's waited this long he might as well just not do anything. And well…I'll leave Ariadne 'not necessarily' moving on with someone else a bit encrypted for now. I'm sure things have certainly changed. Thanks for reviewing! _Coffee Bean: _Hmm…epilogue, you say? Now my gears are turning. ;) Nice. Sometimes I change things around like this time Ariadne is an only child (no Alex like With You or Hera and Ganymede from Follow the Red) but I like to keep her parents. And I just really like the name Natalie so I keep her in a lot of things too lol. This time Arthur has the sibling, I don't think he's ever had one in any of my stories. Nice change. Yes, you're right, our little Arthur is growing up. Lol. _Bookwormgirl: _I was hoping someone would find Lion King funny! Good idea…I think Ariadne might've kept in touch with Dom. He'd be able to respect her wishes and balance his friendship with her and Arthur as separated individuals I think. Thank you! _Nina: _Hey girl! Thanks for giving it a chance! I always say don't matter if you come to the party late, you at the party! Lol Thanks _Kellouka2 _and _MegsiMoo _for following the story and _belton180 _for following meeee!

You guys I really like this chapter. Especially the last part…I hope you do too!

**Chapter 12: Ariadne is Magic.**

"_No, please!" Ariadne convulsed in her sleep. Her hair and neck slick with sweat. Her pillow wet with tears. The sheets tangled around her limbs like restraints, one of them whacking Arthur in the chest. He sat against the headboard, lamps turned on (because she couldn't fall asleep in the dark), waiting. "NO!" after ten minutes of stirring, "NO! ARTHUR!" Ariadne bolted up and straight to her bedside table. Her hand flew to knock over the golden bishop standing idly on the surface and then to clutch it in her fist. Arthur pulled her backwards into his arms and let hers constrict around his waist, her wet cheek press against his warm and bare chest. She was losing her ability to dream without the PASIV—for every dreamsharer that was a tumultuous and horrific phase to go through. Her ability of lucidity was getting jumbled up with her natural REM processes and when that happened terrible nightmares ensued. The worst nightmares a person could have. Every dreamer eventually went through it sometime around the two year mark but for Arthur to watch it happen to his fiancée, was difficult. He felt her shake against him, felt her terse breaths (trying to hold in her sobs and act like she was getting used to it). Ariadne would always pretend to be alright long before she really was, worried about Arthur's sleep and not wanting to keep him up. She'd lay down, bishop under pillow and reluctantly close her eyes. But Arthur was aware of her tense muscles and rigid position, so he'd curl himself around her and shield her with his arms, "You're ok. Relax into me." He would pepper her temple with kisses like he was chasing the horrors and the gore from her head with his tenderness, "I've got you. The dreams can't hurt you, Ari, I won't let them." _

There was no one to keep Arthur's dreams from hurting _him_. The one person who could soothe his soul like a salve with her touch, the only one who could quell the raging storm of turmoil and lull him back to sleep with a smile was the woman of his nightmares. Torturing him by simply existing in the corners of his mind. It hurt worse to wake up to reality without her hair in his face and her breath on his neck than it did to dream of her stabbing him to death under the stars of Paris or ordering projections to tear down the hotel and rip him apart in the spot they first kissed. Ariadne was both his persecutor and his savior and the paradox of that had him sprinting up and down Penrose staircases every time his eyes were closed. He chased her figure into the very shadows that devoured him. Followed her blindly down the rabbit holes that buried him alive. Any death with her there, fake as her presence was, was a beautiful death. Yet instead of relief, what greeted him after the subconscious grave was a cold, empty, Architect-less room and unfortunately there was no waking up from that too.

Arthur sat on the side of his bed, head in hands. He halfway expected to feel a dip behind him. Feel her nimble hands rub the knots from his shoulders. Feel her lips on the column of his neck. _What's wrong? What can I do? _That's what she always said. Then she'd nuzzle her nose and kiss him between the shoulder blades. And without fault the stress would leave him, like the poison of a snake sucked out of the bite. If he thought hard enough, Arthur could fool himself into believing the light breeze from the air vent was her skin along his. Both things gave him chills. It did nothing but increase the bitter yearning for his wife so Arthur went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face then decided to check on Chloe to distract his brain. The little girl was fine. Out like a light. The past couple weeks had been extremely tiring for her due to all the extra rehearsals for her Bluebird role. They had to go in an hour and a half earlier than camp every day and she occasionally stayed one to two hours later depending on the schedule. It was rough and some days the child was so exhausted from her hard work she conked out right after dinner if not before. Arthur wasn't going to get any sleep so he plopped himself onto the couch and turned on the tv. Nothing but infomercials played this time of night but the amazing Sham-wow was something to zone out on. North Carolina was in the same time zone—was Ariadne awake? Maybe. Probably…even if she were halfway around the world, she'd be worried over her parents' wellbeing. If she_ was_ there, though, was she alone? Dozing off between nurse visits and crying for them when she thought no one could hear? Or did she have someone with her for comfort? He hoped someone was there for her because he couldn't be. For a little while longer, at least. Arthur wouldn't lie and say he didn't wish that she missed him too…but he didn't wish his same loneliness on her. Wouldn't curse her with that singular ache. He loved her too much, still.

xxxxxxx

"Formation, formation!" Ms. Willes instructed, making the group of girls adjust where they were standing as they danced. It was costume day and the dancers had tried on their outfits for a run through of the group dance to get a vague idea of what they would look like and whose needed to be fixed. The girls were in Renaissance era type dresses, different muted colors. Some were a deep almost purplish pink, some were muted green, dark blue and gold-ish yellow. Chloe's was one of the green. Their class was portraying all the young children of the court in the kingdom for Aurora's birth celebration scene in Act 1. It wasn't until Act 3 during the Prince and Aurora's wedding scene that Chloe performed as the Bluebird and got to wear a tutu. The group formed two single file lines and all knelt to one knee; "Go one, go two, go three, go four…" the teacher counted them off as they took turns down the line crossing each other with sauté arabesques in a ripple effect. "And to the back! Pretty runs, nice pointed toes," further guided Ms. Willes. The dancers formed a semi-circle around (what was now) a chair from the lobby (but _would be_ Aurora's bassinet when they got to the stage) and posed as if they were excited to see the baby. "Hold, six, seven, eight…lovely, and you'll disperse to the sides to your parents." Not their real parents of course but the set of older dancers each was assigned to stand with for the rest of the 'gifting' scene. Chloe had not so randomly been placed with Katerina (the older assistant had requested) and another teenage dancer, a male named Sam. Now, Sam wasn't there. Neither were the rest of Katerina's age group; but being Ms. Willes' assistant she was.

Chloe caught Uncle Arthur's eyes through the observation window and was rewarded a smirk and thumbs up. The little girl cherished the simple gesture more than her Uncle would ever guess. It was like another step up. One step closer. Arthur didn't use to watch. He used to sit in the corner of the lobby with his phone or the newspaper or a book. But now when he came in, he watched however much of class of was left with the rest of the guardians. He showed recognition of something that was extremely important to her. He didn't just observe anymore, he supported. He took pride in her talent, her hard work and her chosen art form. And ultimately all that put together showed that he cared about her. About little Chloe Marie, a kid he probably didn't really know or care existed more than a month ago. Chloe would take Arthur's thumbs up and smirk over a million dolls or the prettiest tutu or the biggest bar of chocolate in the world.

Arthur found it was interesting to see the progress not only Chloe but the entire group of kids made each day with their routine. Truthfully, when they started back after auditions, it looked like a hot mess. Embarrassingly so. Kids were running into each other, out of sync, some forgot what they were doing in the midst of doing it, and some remembered…but were grossly off beat. To the point where Arthur wondered how in the world a dancer could have that little rhythm. It gradually got better the more they worked on it which was to be expected but to see it happen before his eyes was astounding. That day for instance, it had all miraculously come together (thank God, with the show so close). With the exception of a rare mistake here and there (they were always going to happen), on the whole, the class looked like one person moving across the floor. Their dedication and progress deserved to be praised.

Today, after reverends, the kids weren't dismissed. The parents and camp chaperones were ushered into the studio to talk about alterations for the costumes. As in most ballet companies, the costumes for a specific production are kept and used again and again but altered to fit whoever wears it that given year. Sometimes new costumes are made or the ones they have are changed around but it keeps down on the costs for students (especially summer intensive ones) and creates a vast collection through the years. Arthur smoothed Chloe's hair back and returned the hug when she bounded over to him then readied his clipboard to record the information. He'd type it in the notes on his phone but he'd need a hard copy for the tailor's anyway. One of the little girls (Hayley) whose costume fit exactly how it should was called up to the middle by Ms. Willes to be a model of sorts. Compared to that little girl's fit, Chloe's dress was massive on her. Ms. Willes had Hayley turn sideways so the guardians and children had a profile view and gestured to the back, "Alright. Obviously everyone's torso needs to be brought in so there's a snug fit like this. Make sure to keep the waistline an umpire." Arthur, down on one knee (using it as a table for his clipboard), had Chloe turn the same way to gauge how much fabric needed to be taken in to look like the other little girl. At least a handful of it. What was that four inches? He then recorded the info onto the sheet. He had measurements from that morning as well. They tried on her bluebird costume first things and decided what needed to be done to it. "That's too tight," Chloe wiggled and complained via whisper to him.

"She said it needed to be snug," he offered.

She may have slightly over exaggerated her ragged breath, "Except I have to be able to breathe…" but it really was tight! She wouldn't be able to comfortably move around and perform certain moves without ripping her costume if they took it in that much. Hopefully Uncle Arthur wasn't going to sew it himself. He either needed to pay the seamstresses that worked in the costume department of the Ballet or pay someone else…cause he couldn't bunch a fistful of fabric, cut it, and randomly try to mend the jagged edges back together. She'd look awful. The material needed to be folded in on itself, the excess cut, and then the two straight edges neatly sewn back. Chloe watched her mom do that to her other costumes enough times to know how it goes.

Arthur relented. Chloe had more experience with ballet costumes anyway and he didn't want her to faint onstage from lack of oxygen…so he loosened his hold on the fabric at her back, "How about that?" It still looked sufficiently like Hayley's. His niece nodded, "Excellent," and he erased his previously recorded number and corrected it. Good thing he'd used a pencil. Three inches now? His guy would be able to get a better idea. Hayley faced forwards towards them and Ms. Willes quickly moved on to the sleeves. "The sleeves should come down just past their wrist bones and the bottom point should hang no longer than three inches." Chloe lifted one arm and both she and Arthur dropped the gazes to it: Her fingers were barely visible out of the sleeve and the point of it was the length it should be…doubled. At least there were several girls whose costumes looked the same or worse. Besides their summer and spring break intensives, the professional ballet school didn't usually accept students younger than twelve (some eleven year olds after thorough audition process and letter of recommendation) so they didn't have an overabundance of tiny costumes for tiny dancers during the intensives.

"Hang no longer than," Arthur repeated as he wrote and Chloe finished for him, "3 inches. The point!" He nodded and added the extra details to his notes. Perhaps, he could take a picture of the correctly altered costume to show to Bertram.

Finishing it up, Ms. Willes demonstrated by folding the waist of another girl's skirt to shorten it and match the length of Hayley's, "And the skirt needs to be an inch above the ankle so we can see their footwork."

"Inch above ankle…"

"If you're taking and altering them yourselves or through an outside source you_ are _responsible for anything that happens to the costume while in your care. Stains, rips, what have you. You'll need to provide funds for our costumers to make a replacement costume," Ms. Willes warned and then another one of the instructors, Ms. Moreland, stepped in and added: "And we'll need everyone to bring the costumes back by this Wednesday so we can approve the alterations." Arthur was sure to triple underline that. "Reminder that this is our last week in the studios. Next week is tech week so we'll be in the theater all day, every day."

It was unbelievable that the show was _that_ close. Time had flown by. Six weeks were nearing their end and rolling into a seventh. And time was fixing to fly even faster once next Monday came. They'd be busy, busy, busy, with long, tiring, days at the theater. Oddly enough Arthur was excited about the prospect of tech week. It was something different, something he hadn't experienced. He'd never been one to create himself but he loved to watch others do it. Mostly Ariadne…but Miles and Dom and Mal too when they were all in their prime. He liked seeing others' imagination at work and the product of that. Chloe and her friends and teachers and the entire Ballet Company was going to a create the world of Sleeping Beauty out of set pieces and costumes and choreographed movement to Tchaikovsky…he was as curious to see how they pulled that off as he was curious to see how a dreamscape came together and the rhythm a carefully planned extraction fell in step with.

"Monday, we'll block. Tuesday, we'll work with the lights and sound and our _full_ dress rehearsal will be _next _Wednesday. We'll begin with finale first, then do our run-throughs. Hopefully two. We've given out packets but to reiterate, we have a six o'clock show Thursday, Friday and Saturday night as well as a 2 o'clock matinee Saturday afternoon." As to be expected, Uncle Arthur sifted through the pages to look for the show information. He liked to read along as the points were brought out. Knowing him well, Chloe plucked an orange highlighter from the ground, uncapped it, and held it out for him to take and use.

Ms. Willes took the floor again, "Attire."

The Point Man shuffled through the stapled packet, Chloe whispering over her shoulder to him, "Page five."

"Pink tights, footed not convertible. They need to be new, no runs or holes, not faded or dirty. Clean shoes, new if possible, preferably canvas instead of leather. Elastics _sewed; _safety pins will not be tolerated. Not only is that unprofessional looking but unsafe. Shoe bows must be tucked in or your child will not go onstage." It was like the military, Arthur mused. It was that strict. Arthur raised his eyebrows as he jotted things down in the margins and highlighted specific words. Chloe looked less terrified of the regulations than he was (probably because her Talesco OCD gene—while it was there—wasn't as potent in her DNA as it was in Arthur's. And probably because Arthur was a first-timer and Chloe was a seasoned pro at this show stuff). She rocked back and forth on her toes with her hands behind her back, fiddling with the material there. A little bored, honestly. "No bows in hair, no fly-away's, no colored pins or clips. Buns _must _have hairnets." The Point decided he'd use two for good measure. "No jewelry, not even stud earrings are permitted, and no painted finger or toe-nails." Good thing that was mentioned, he was fixing to take her in and have her nails redone. They were starting to chip and she was most likely in the mood for a change because—well, it was Chloe we're talking about. Instead he'd have to find some sort of chemical or contraption to strip her nails down to their natural state. Was there such a thing? He murmured behind his niece, "We'll have to look for something to get rid of the colors on your nails."

Chloe nodded knowingly, "Nail polish remover."

"Exactly. Some sort of remover." He made sure to write that at the top of the front page on the packet so he wouldn't forget, "I'll research something of that sort and where they might sell it—"

Everyone was free to go unless they had questions. And the dancers started to take their costumes off (their leotards and tights were underneath). Instead of doing the same, Chloe replied to her uncle, "They sell it almost everywhere. It's nail polish remover."

"Yes but what is that exactly?" Arthur could quickly and simply look it up on his phone. He pulled the device out and opened the search engine, "Apple cider vinegar or—"

"No; It's literally a product _called: _Nail Polish Remover," she covered the phone screen with her palm and looked at him patiently, "That's a thing."

"I'm taking your word for it," he warned the impending colored-nail-doom would be on her shoulders if it turned out such a thing didn't exist. He was sure the nail salon she'd gotten them done at had a way of reversing the process. Chloe pulled off the costume and handed it to him to hang while she scurried to her cubby to put her outer clothes over her leo and tights.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

They walked hand in hand into Saint Laurie Merchant Tailors. Arthur was a regular there if not their best and most frequented customer. The locally grown century old establishment was known for their bespoke, custom-made men and women's suits. As such, the company had made several of Arthur's favorites (and tailored all the ones he bought elsewhere). Mr. Kozinn, the President, was the one milling about in the front when they entered. Most of the time he was out of town on other business but Kozinn liked to stop in and gauge business on a regular monthly basis. "Arthur, good to see you," the man recognized Arthur right away and offered a professional handshake.

"Jack, I trust business is well."

"Always," the man joked, "especially as long as we've got you as a customer." In the thousands of times Arthur had been in and out of the tailor's (and it was literally thousands), Jack had never seen him accompanied—let alone by a small explosively dressed girl. "And who's this young lady?"

The little girl outstretched her hand daintily, "I'm Chloe!" Jack thought it'd be sweet to humor the girl and offer a gentle handshake; he wasn't expecting her grip to be as firm and bone bending as the man she walked in with. The Point Man explained during their exchange, "She's my brother's daughter; I've got her for a while this Summer." The man both amusedly and pointedly gave the child a once over. She donned a creamy mint green, short sleeved blouse with a peter pan collar composed of rainbow stripes. It was tucked into a full army green skirt, the bottom lined with patches of different colored floral patterns. And she insisted on putting her coral (with white polka dots) leggings over her pink tights before they left the studio, saying they looked better with her black combat boots. Used to it by now, Arthur deadpanned, "I don't dress her." It wasn't him defending himself; it was more like crediting the creativity to her. Because it was easy to tell from the smile on Jack's face (Arthur saw the same one on a lot of people's faces when they looked at her) that he strangely liked her mismatched style. It was true, the kid had something akin to magic because she could wear the most unlikely things and they'd work for her.

Jack squinted at the two of them, "I see a bit of the resemblance. The eyebrows mostly."

Chloe was slightly perturbed by that comment (she had man eyebrows?) but shrugged it off, "I look more like my mommy's side."

Mr. Kozinn chuckled and shook his hand in the air to get some feeling back, "Well, it's nice to meet you."

Their regulars were treated as VIPS, naturally. So Mr. Kozinn gestured for Arthur to follow him into the next room back, a special waiting room with dark chestnut wood flooring and rich light brown walls that looked like coffee filled with lots of cream. There was a long sofa and two sets of matching loveseats all deep wooden frames with deep green leather upholstery. On the all-glass low-set coffee table was a glass bowl of peppermints and a glass bowl of butterscotch so neatly placed, Chloe was afraid to take one in case they were meant for decoration only. The side tables between each set of loveseats were bare save for perfectly circular wooden coasters and slender vases filled with Calla lilies. A neat wooden rack hung on the wall by the doorway and housed a collection of fashion magazines as well as a nice set of Time, National Geographic, and Architecture issues. In the far corner was what looked like a kitchen albeit a small one. Dark cupboards and light granite countertops, a microwave, sink, dishwasher and mini fridge. There was even a coffee machine and a huge array of hot coa coa mixes and tea bags. Stirrers, mugs, you name it. If Chloe and Uncle Arthur were ever stranded in a suit store, Chloe hoped it was this one because they could survive like royalty for a pretty long time here. Mr. Kozzin retrieved a drink out of the microwave, "Have a follow-up fitting with Bertram today?" and Uncle Arthur comfortably grabbed a mug from one of the top cabinets then reached for the pot of coffee. Like it was the usual. Like they were at home. "Oh no, he's just replacing the lining of one of my Sean John's this time."

Shaking a sugar packet, the man nodded in the direction of the items Arthur draped on the couch, "What's in the garment bag?"

"Actually…" Arthur gestured Chloe over and asked if she wanted anything. He knew for a fact there was chocolate milk in the fridge and handed her a small glass for (near) future reference. "I need him to make alterations for two ballet costumes. I know it's different than suits but I don't have time to find a viable seamstress and I trust his quality of work."

Mr. Kozzin stirred his beverage and moved aside so Chloe could open the fridge and search for the milk, "I'm sure he'll do it."

xxxxxxx

"This is a first. I've never made alterations for a prima ballerina before," the tailor hung the measuring tape around his neck and safety pinned one of the straps. Chloe grinned at Arthur at being called a prima and fluffed the top layer of tulle on her tutu. "Arthur, I think I'll have to take the leotard in anyway. Even with the straps as tight as they'll adjust, the torso area is still excessively baggy."

Chloe stood on a stool in the middle of Bertram's work room in her bluebird costume. For older and more professional dancers their costumes are two-piece. The tutu is a wireframe covered in tulle attached to high waisted, high cut bikini-like bottoms. Their elaborate bodice is put on second and secured in the back with the point of the torso coming down to the point at the hips where the tutu sticks out and covers the top of the briefs. However, for little girls, Chloe in particular, the tutu was attached to the leotard at the waist line and was fluffy but still stuck out. It wasn't an actual platter tutu but it was closer to that style than the romantic tutu. All of it was a rich royal blue and made of a sturdy material that looked like satin. The bodice (torso part of leotard) was embellished with a beautiful applique and sprinkled with rhinestones and small light blue pearls. The straps were spaghetti, nude colored and adjustable. It truly looked like a million bucks…though her polka dot leggings peeking out sort of warped the full effect. Bertram pinned the other side, "I can fold the straps over a quarter inch and then," he took the hemline of the tutu at her waist, folded the loose fabric down, and held the tutu higher so Arthur could see, "And I'll bring this up about an inch and a half. Still plenty of room for her to breathe and move but not a tent."

The Point nodded in approval. Bertram was the professional so he trusted his judgment about realistically following the guidelines. Their tailor added, "I'll add darts on the sides. They won't be visible and will improve the shape. It'll fit like the leotard she has on underneath."

"Perfect." Bertram handed her the second costume (it was draped on the back of the chair he was sitting in) so she could take it in the dressing room and change. Arthur was quick to warn her like a real panicked guardian would, "Careful, there are pins in that. Take your time and be mindful, ok?"

"I've got—OW!" Chloe yelped.

"Chlo—" he started, jumping to his feet, mind already racing for where there might be a bandaid.

She snickered, "Just kidding." Years of costumes, years of alterations. Years of standing on a chair in a sparkly outfit while Mommy pinned and tucked and sewed. Chloe had been doing this sort of thing as long as she could remember (she started at 2 or 3, all she did was tiptoe and twirl around the house after they saw the Nutcracker) so she was accustomed to nimbly slinking out of costumes riddled with pins. She stepped out in her monstrously big renaissance dress, holding the bluebird costume away from her so as not to prick herself (like Sleeping Beauty did! She didn't want to fall into a deep sleep for sixteen years and miss her shows).

Arthur handed Bertram the clipboarded sheet of requirements as the man sighed, "Oh Dear, we have our work cut out for us."

xxxxxxx

"_MOMMA!" Ender's high pitched scream reverberated through the hall and into Arthur and Ariadne's bedroom. "MOMMA, MOMMA!" A groggy Architect hopped out of bed, her feet cold as they hit the wood floor and her arm snatching her robe on her way out of their room. Arthur rolled over and pushed himself out of bed too. Ariadne had to wake up and do this alone when he was out of town it was only fair that if he was home, he get up too. The man padded out after her, swooping down to grab a pair of blue slippers by the foot of the bed. _

_The woman was already on the bed with Ender, sitting against the headboard, pulling the hysterical, red-faced toddler into her lap. "What is it, E? You have a nightmare?" Ariadne was able to empathize with the boy better than Arthur…the Point Man was never out of practice long enough to go back to natural dreaming. The Architect quit Somnacin like a cold turkey once she found out she was pregnant with Ender and hadn't had so much as a drop of it since. Her natural dreams drifted back and with them a rare but not unusual nightmare here and there. The little boy and his pouty lips nodded. "The big marshmallow man ate you and Arthur-Dad and then started chasing me…" Arthur couldn't help but simper at the doorway. It wasn't minimizing his son's fears because they seemed silly to him—or that wasn't Arthur's intention. But the marshmallow man? That was the type of imagined monster he'd expect of he and Ariadne's offspring. The other night it was a herd of giraffes with razor sharp teeth who wanted to eat Ender because he'd made a pie with the blueberries they wanted for themselves. And a week ago it was an empty park with sunglasses sitting everywhere staring at him (and Ender was pretty sure they kidnapped his crayons). A lot them were random but The Marshmallow Man was recurrent. _

_Ariadne told Arthur that one night as they were drinking hot cocoa, Ariadne made an offhand comment. Called the tiny marshmallows in their beverages 'mallow-babies'. Ender subsequently got it into his head that maybe marshmallows could feel things and tried to save the mallow-babies by fishing them out with his spoon and putting them on a napkin. Unfortunately they were already half-melted by the scalding milk and he cried. Since then he'd been afraid their giant-sized marshmallow daddy wanted revenge. Ariadne treated it like an actual fear (because to the boy it was really very scary) and smoothed Ender's sweaty hair back, "Well, you're ok. I'm here and Daddy is here and we're going to protect you." _

"_Arthur-Dad?" the boy asked. Confused because she used the term Daddy. Ariadne was desperately trying to get the title to stick to Arthur. The Point Man just wasn't around enough for Ender to get used to calling him that and her husband guiltily noticed her deflate every time Ender referred to his father by name first. But Arthur took the mention of him as his cue to enter the room so he moved to kneel beside the bed, lovingly slipping Ariadne's feet into her house slippers and rubbing Ender's arm. "I'm going to track down Mr. Marshmallow Man and tell him to leave my little boy alone."_

_Ender sniffled but sat up straighter (and a little less afraid), "But you can't find him, he's a monster."_

_Arthur grinned through his tiredness, "Ah, but I can find anyone in the _whole world_. That's my job." Ender seemed sold on that but the scariness of the dream still hung around him so he hugged his mommy's arms tighter around him. Ariadne didn't acknowledge what Arthur thought was a witty comment about his profession (what should've been his old profession). She didn't even look at him. Used to, they'd share a small knowing smile when they slipped information about dreamshare into a conversation and were the only ones who understood. Now, she disappointedly ignored him when he brought it up. _

_Ariadne nuzzled her nose against Ender's temple, "Meanwhile, I'll chase all the monsters out of your head for tonight." Tenderly kissing the same spot, the woman softly and soothingly murmured, "There goes The Marshmallow Man," another two quick pecks, "And there goes the giraffes and the bogeyman," and one more, "and there goes all the rest." _

_Their son was remarkably quelled and relaxed by Ariadne's motherly reassurances. He believed that Momma could kiss away all the dragons easier than he believed Arthur-Dad could track someone down via computer. Matter of imagination over logic? Not so much in this situation. Ender trusted Ariadne more than he trusted the man they insisted was his dad. The man who ran off (for what Ender assumed was no real reason), visited with presents, and stayed for a while sometimes. Arthur's word, his presence and protection was temporary in Ender's life; Ariadne's was permanent. Inquisitively, the child tilted his head to look at his mom, "Where do they go?"_

_Ariadne tickled his side, "They get trapped in daddy's silver briefcase." She smiled at Ender's giggles but regarded Arthur's smirk grimly. "Let's try to go back to sleep now," she guided Ender back down and covered him to his chin. The toddler demanded a kiss on his cheek and forehead before he exchanged her arm for his teddy bear, "Sweet dreams, Momma." Arthur got up from the floor as Ariadne got up from the bed. "Night Arthur-Dad." _

"_Night buddy," he pecked the child's forehead as well and patted the top of the teddy bear's head. But whereas Ender just couldn't survive without Ariadne's bedtime kisses, he probably couldn't care less whether Arthur contributed to them or not. It made Arthur feel useless. Rightfully so._

_The Architect turned in the doorway, "Sleep tight, Booger."_

"_And don't let the por-jet-shins bite!" He chimed._

xxxxxxx

"Uncle Arthur?" Chloe surfaced from her room twenty minutes after they got home from the tailors. He thought she might have fallen asleep but apparently she was getting gussied up for—what, he wasn't sure. Yellow tights, a black and white plaid dress and a black, very nice looking, mock turtle-neck blazer. She had a black tulle flower pinned on the side, a bow bracelet, a long string of pearls and a gold bow headband. He'd ask…but it was Chloe so who knows. "Can I borrow your printer for a couple minutes?"

"Uh…" he took a break from sifting through takeout menus for dinner. Since Chloe came to stay, Arthur had cooked most meals but today he felt like relaxing and letting the food come to him. "Sure. Circle what you want for dinner," he held extra pamphlets out for her to take. Arthur was in the mood for Chinese but didn't mind ordering from two places if Chloe wanted something else. It seemed to take no time at all before Arthur heard the mechanic sounds of his printer coming alive.

Ten minutes later he checked up on her. The printer was set up next to his laptop on a simple desk in the corner of his room. He'd noticeably downsized after he gave Chloe his office. The little girl was sat, feet propped up on his desk (it was ok for now…) tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on cautiously and accurately cutting large shapes out of the paper (to the tune of another being printed). "Did you circle what you want? I'll have Max call it in," he stood at the doorway, attempting to see through the paper to the image she was intently working on. Without looking, (she was too distracted) Chloe handed him the Chinese one.

Great minds think alike.

Tiny Talesco circled sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, crab and cheese wontons and egg rolls. Arthur doubted she could eat all of it in one sitting but whatever she wanted…they could share a lot of it and use it as leftovers. Maybe they could eat it for dinner two nights in a row. He left her to her task and phoned downstairs to Max to put their order in. Arthur was adamant about no one coming up to the top floor to deliver anything. All of his mail, takeout, etc. was brought to the lobby and he went downstairs to retrieve it.

They waited. Or Arthur waited, watching an old Sandra Bullock movie named The Net as Chloe was busy with her project. Before long she happily bounded out of his room with several circular shaped pictures. Curious (and because his movie was on commercial break) Arthur silently observed as she buzzed around the penthouse. She seemed to be on a mission. Must've had something in mind to do. She disappeared into her room for a spell and came out with her arms full of her toys—all fancily clad. Julie was in her dress outfit, the nicest the hippie era doll had. Chloe had (endeavored) to fix Julie's hair into an elegant do and placed a flower crown on her head and sat her at the dinner table. Sharing the seat with her was Sandy the dog, his bright red bowtie fixed and fur brushed. In another seat, all four of her Lalaloopsy dolls were set with legs crossed and then of course the dynamic duo, her stuffed elephant and monkey, Penny and Emmett shared a chair. Penny had two big green chevron bows, one on each ear and a couple ivory and pink pearl bracelets (borrowed from Chloe) constricting her leg like they had the night Arthur took the two to see Annie. Emmett had one of the flowers Chloe used for her hair pinned to his m&m t-shirt like a boutonniere. "Uncle Arthur!" called the child from the dining room.

She was fishing tape out of a kitchen drawer by the time he strolled into the kitchen. "Yes….?" He dragged out as she plopped the tape dispenser on the table and distributed plates around the table like she was expecting company. Chloe inquired diplomatically, "Could you put on your suit jacket, please?"

Arthur's head turned, "Why?"

"We're having royalty over for dinner," she said simply and taped a picture of the head of the Queen of England on the chair opposite the one Arthur always sat in. How did Chloe come up with these things? These outlandish and random games of pretend. Like, what, she came home and the idea of having the Queen for dinner popped into her head so obviously print pictures and set them up? Crazy child. "Royalty," repeated the man.

"Mhm," she circled the table, taping cut out pictures of each person's head on the chairs, "Her majesty, the Queen of England, Prince Charles, The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge—William and Kate—and their baby Prince George!" she put him on the chair with Penny and Emmett. He'd enjoy sitting with them; they'd keep him entertained.

Arthur swiped his jacket from the arm of the couch and asked teasingly, "Where's Prince Harry?"

Chloe gasped, "Prince Harry! How could I forget Prince Harry? He _loves _parties!" Like the house was on fire or being attacked by Godzilla, Chloe darted back to Arthur's room. Presumably to print a picture of Harry's head as well.

Much like mothers and fathers and siblings (and honestly anyone remotely related that's around) are roped into tea parties with teddy bears and imaginary friends around a cardboard box…Arthur was coerced into having lo mein and egg rolls with stuffed dolls and photos of the Royal Family taped around his dining room table. Naturally enough, topics came to him after listening to Chloe make small talk about the weather in England, how they decorated Prince George's nursery and any garden parties the Queen or Princess Kate had planned. Chloe wanted an exclusive invitation to their next luncheon so she could wear her fancy sunhat. Arthur casually brought up their New York vacation plans and asked if they'd been to Broadway yet. Apparently they'd seen Wicked and The Lion King. Or that's what Chloe said. They graciously stayed for dessert…something Chloe threw together (she insisted Arthur stay at the table and keep the guests company). It was…creative really. They each had a rice krispy (out of the package) with a dollop of whipped cream and some chocolate syrup on top. Probably could've eaten it without a knife and fork but Chloe pressed on with the utensils so Arthur did as well.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"Mommy!" The peaceful darkness of sleep was rudely interrupted by Chloe's screeches. "Mommy! Daddy! Daddy!" Screeches which volumes climbed with each call, "DADDY!" It'd been a good week and a half without her having nightmares so it was surprising and yet not surprising to hear his niece's cries sail through the penthouse and into his room. It was Arthur's turn now. To carry the important burden of a child's nighttime frights and the heavy responsibility to make her feel better. To make her feel safe. To make her drift back to sleep before the clock chimed an ungodly hour. This time it was the _Point Man's_ cold feet hitting the wood floors and _his_ arm snatching a robe as he raced to the kid's room. She must've come into consciousness because her yells changed to "Uncle Arthur! UNCLE ARTH—"

"Hey, I'm here," he pushed through her door, "I'm here. What's wrong, Tiny?" As a precaution (or out of instinct), he always scanned the room and peered into the shadows. Monsters weren't real but men with guns who wanted Arthur to work for them were. The room was clear so he proceeded to her bedside as she wiped at her face with one of Penny's ears, "Nightmare." Arthur noticed Ariadne's scarf bunched in Chloe's other fist. The little girl wore it a lot, yes, but used it as a blanket for Emmett every night (Penny slept under the covers with Chloe and Emmett laid long ways above her pillow.) Sometimes—and neither of them knew how she ended up doing it—she'd wake up with the scarf under her cheek. Chloe loved the way it smelled of vanilla and…pencil lead? Arthur never washed it for fear of washing what was left of Ariadne from it; he'd kept it in that office desk drawer since she left and her scent had been preserved, he guessed. The little girl brought the silky material to her cheek. It soothed her like a baby soothed by rubbing their pacifier on their nose. The Architect was good at comforting children after nightmares even from miles and miles away. Without even knowing it. Arthur gave a melancholy smile at that.

"It's always the same," she sniffled which prompted him to rub her upper arm like Ariadne used to do with Ender (maybe still did?), "I see my Mommy in the hospital and she won't wake up. And I look for my Daddy to help her but I can't find him anywhere. Mommy's always dying and Daddy's always lost." Well that was morbid. He expected something like lion-sharks or men made of thumbs or Miss Hannigan to be what ran rampant in her mind. Real world troubles or PTSD manifested in dreams were trickier than your average child's nightmare. Chloe's night terrors weren't simply in her head. She couldn't be told Arthur would chase her worries away with a kiss on the forehead. Her nightmare was very real and had already happened and… unfortunately, was something the child couldn't wake up from. Arthur could empathize fully. Could understand the pain of knowing your worst fears weren't rooted in fantasy but a tragedy you'd already experienced (and kept involuntarily experiencing when you shut your eyes). So the Uncle had her scoot over and he sat against her headboard with her. "Do you have nightmares? I know you're not really afraid of anything but sometimes I hear you." Chloe sweetly threw a blanket over his legs and then rested her head against his side.

If she heard him, there was no point in lying. "Yes. About the same things too…" The little girl tilted her head up at him skeptically so he elaborated, "Meaning my nightmares are about the same people I scream for when I wake up. Just like yours." Arthur pulled Ariadne's scarf out of Chloe's grip and laid it out in the space between the outside of his leg and the outside of hers, flattening the wrinkles and feeling at the silk with his fingertips, "Ari could calm a raging ocean with her whisper." The little girl's eyes followed the pattern he traced on the Architect's cloth, imagined the pretty lady in the picture Arthur gave Chloe: smiling at her coffee, her engagement ring glistening in the corner. "Her hugs could squeeze the fear and the stress out of you. And her kiss on your head could vanquish the monsters and ghosts inside it."

"Like a fairy…" sighed the little girl, joining his index finger in drawing shapes on the scarf they could barely see because of the darkness. Something about it seemed right though. Ariadne wasn't always seen (she was never seen here) but she was always, always felt. Chloe's parents: though both of them she'd gone a very long time without seeing were always, always, felt.

Nodding, "Yeah, like a fairy…Ariadne is magic," he felt Chloe hug his waist and her little ear (she hadn't inherited the Talesco ears, lucky for her. That or the gene just hadn't kicked in yet) pressed against his chest. "Her name is Greek. After the myth of Ariadne, Princess of Crete. Mistress of the Maze. Her smile will lead you out of any nightmare better than a red thread ever could." Wherever Ender was, was the boy clinging to Ariadne in much the same way? Listening to her heartbeat like Chloe was listening to his? Maybe the children were listening to a synchronized beat despite time and distance and misunderstandings. Arthur had been thinking long and hard the past few weeks but this one in particular since their time together was winding down. Chloe had succeeded in wrapping him around her finger and he wasn't too keen on the idea of sending her home and going back to how things were. Being cut off from the lot of Talesco's, from everybody. With slight hesitation, only because he had slight disbelief he was really serious about it, Arthur said, "Chlo, I want to talk to about something very serious."

"Ok," yawned the child.

Resting his chin on the top of her head, he delved in, "Do you like living here with me?"

"Yes!" And all of a sudden his chin was bouncing because of her head enthusiastically nodding, "A _whole_ lot."

Deep breath. It was the moment of truth and once he offered there was no going back. There was no worming his way out of it without crushing his poor niece's spirit and unique little heart, "What would you say to having a little brother?"

It was laughable. The way Chloe folded her arms over her chest and slowly picked head up off of him. The way her eyes narrowed into slits and a small, subtle, green monster starting rearing its head. She dragged out her word suspiciously, "Depends…"

"Ender." Arthur corrected with raised eyebrows. "What would you think about being a big sister to Ender?"

Oh. That was different. Once she realized it wasn't some other random kid he was bringing into the picture. Ender was already a Talesco. That was fine. In fact, that was _great. _Chloe's brown orbs lit up and enlarged and she burst out in excited laughter, bouncing on the bed, "That'd be _fun. _That'd be the funnest thing _ever_!"

"So if I adopted you…" he said slowly and carefully so she'd hear everything despite her over-excitement and ginormous intake of breath, "and we were together with Auntie Ari and Ender as a family…you would like that?"

Chloe smirked and reiterated, "You'd be like my dad. And Ari would be like my mom and Ender would be like my brother?"

"No one could replace your parents but in essence," shrugged the man, "yes."

The girl was sitting on her knees and jumping on the bed. Penny and Emmett were bouncing and rebounding off the mattress, their limbs (and trunk) flying. It was like they were celebrating too! "That's the best plan ever! It sounds like it was meant to be!"

"Good. Good, I'll start looking into some forms and procedures, contact my lawyer. We're already related so it's just a matter of custody and guardianship. But listen, listen." The Point held his hands out to settle her down. He waited until she sat completely still with her full attention on him, "You still have to go home after the showcase."

"What?"

Arthur probably should've started with that first. "I've got some things to lock down first. I've got to settle some—uh, some business. Make my job more family-friendly. That's something that absolutely has to be done. It wouldn't be good to have a child around while that's—taken care of. And I've got to find Ari and Ender first. I've got to make things right. I have an idea where they are—"

"But—but—" Chloe struggled to interrupt and plead her case.

"No. That's imperative. I can't drag you all over the globe while I search for them. That's not responsible."

The little girl, "_But Uncle Arthur—" _she whined.

He sighed, "School starts back soon, I'm sure. I don't know how long it's going to take to fix things with Ari and Ender _and _with my parents."

Chloe halfway pouted but pursued, "But I could help you! If you'd just—"

"No." His no nonsense, stern, Point Man voice shut her protests down. The little girl slumped against the headboard and frowned in frustration. Arthur tried to help her understand, "I don't even know if things between us _can_ be fixed. I'm going to be a stressed out wreck and I'm not going to keep you out of school and take you to a bunch of strange places for you to witness that. It's no situation for a child. I'll bring you back once all the dust has cleared and everything's happy again."

"B—" the little girl stopped abruptly and trailed off with the lift of his finger. Arthur took that finger and bopped her nose with it, "I promise, Tiny. I'm going to bring you back to live with me. Whether I can get Ariadne and Ender to take me back or not. Just stop arguing and trust me."

xxxxxxxx

Chloe dozed against him and barely felt when Arthur slipped out from under her and tip-toed back to his room. He made sure her covers were straight and her stuffed animals were in place. Tucked Ariadne's scarf just under the pillow by Chloe's chin and above Penny's ears. The Uncle took a moment to chuckle to himself when he went to close her door to a crack and noticed the wall her seating area was against: The Royal Family's heads had been transferred there. Sitting casually in Chloe's room for whenever she felt like talking or having tea, he supposed. If only Ariadne could meet and get to know Chloe…she'd adore her. And if only Ariadne could see how well he was doing taking care of her, how he'd improved as a parental figure, how hard he'd tried to be a family man now and create lasting bonds…she might forgive him. She might give him a chance.

That night, Chloe experienced her first dream within a dream. All natural, I assure you. Hardly lucid. She 'woke up' from her first dream in her room in the penthouse. She'd had a nightmare she couldn't remember all she knew was that she was sad and frightened and something was off. Something was unusually whimsical about her room. The subtle glow of pink because of her lamp (which she was sure was off when she went to sleep) or the weightlessness she felt on her bed. Chloe opened her mouth to scream for her Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Arthur, whoever—but no sound came out. The only sound in the silence were her sniffles as the tears ran down her cheeks. The little girl grabbed Penny and clutched her to her chest.

The second her feet hit the floor, she jumped away from the edge of her bed. Afraid something was under it and wanted to grab her feet. Chloe couldn't scream so no one would come find her, she had to be brave and go find them. She pushed herself into the hallway and was immediately met with the familiar set-up in Uncle Arthur's living room. As normal and accurate and realistic as ever. The weird thing (and yet it didn't feel weird or out of place at all) was Chloe's instinct to tip-toe past the room (which she thought they didn't have) next to hers. It felt like an average night, sneaking past the peaceful snores and thinking: 'Don't wake Ender up. Let him sleep.' But how could the boy be there? When did he get there? Had Uncle Arthur already found them as she was sleeping?

Airily, Chloe seemed to float through the penthouse. The shadows bent and curled and clawed at the edges of her peripheral vision but always hid from her head-on gaze when she turned her head towards them. Her spine was tingly and the hair on her arms and neck felt like it was standing up. On a whim, she glanced sideways and saw out the window of their kitchen (somehow) into a window across the street. Now, Chloe was sure the building across from their was an office building but right now it was a hospital and she could see into a bright white room. The only color there was the blue of a hospital gown and the brown of her mom's hair. _Mommy?_ She mouthed because the sound wouldn't come out. The small Talesco stumbled backwards from the window at the ear-splitting sound of metal crunching and exploding. Watched in horror as a car crashed through her mother's hospital room and set the building across from her on fire. Chloe dropped Penny in her haste to press her nose and hands against the window, her eyes searching desperately for a sign of the woman, _Mommy! No, mommy, please! _No sound again. Just her sniffles. As always, Chloe was filled with an urgency to find the parent she had left. Surely, she still had her dad. He could help! She pivoted away from the window and the penthouse stretched like silly putty. It spun and zigged and zagged and Chloe began sprinting, _DADDY! _At least her feet on the wood floor were making sounds now, at least the shadows were spreading on the ceilings like moss where she could see them. _DADDY! _It was a maze and she was lost.

No. Chloe knew where she was. Daddy was lost. And she was alone. And she was cold, freezing cold. And she dropped Penny and left her behind. The little girl turned down hallway after hallway and barged through door after door (all of the cracks looked like eyes that wanted to pounce out at her) and then boom she was bursting through her closet into her room, out of her room into the hallway, past Ender's (wait what?) room, across the living room and tripping—falling, like falling through a rabbit's hole into Uncle Arthur's room. Silent screams as she fell, fell, fell, fell and then noise. Normal noise. Her own _oomph _ricocheting through the air and the plunk of her limbs hitting the ground in his doorway.

She startled someone. Uncle Arthur. Who immediately rolled out of bed and padded over. The feet in front of Chloe's face were smaller than Uncle Arthur's. The toenails trimmed and painted and much prettier than the man's. Chloe lifted her head following the line of a thin, cotton, vivid red robe up to a smiling face. One she recognized. _Are you ok, Sweetie? _The woman murmured as the other figure—the man. Probably Arthur—turned over in his sleep. And there she was…Ariadne. Princess of Crete, Mistress of the Maze. The prettiest woman Chloe had ever seen…the little girl was in shock. In awe. Because it felt real and natural and there was Ariadne in the flesh, her soft white hands reaching out to help the child up. Glad to see another face, glad she'd found anybody much less the Architect, Chloe clung to Ariadne's waist and buried her face in the woman's stomach, replying. _Nightmares._ The woman—the _Princess_—smelled like vanilla and pencil lead…like the handed down scarf Chloe was given.

The girl let the Mistress guide her, this time a short distance to the bed, and waited as Ariadne settled against the headboard then pulled Chloe to climb into her lap. It was true, Ariadne's hugs squeezed the scare out. With her arms around Chloe's neck, the little girl's gooseflesh went away and the churning in her stomach faded out. Like magic. _Everything's gonna be ok, I promise. I'm going to chase all the bad thoughts away. _And then as if Chloe was being anointed she felt soft warm lips against her temple. Once, and the shadows completely shrunk back. Disintegrated from view and turned into flowers growing along the crown molding. Another kiss and the eyes Chloe thought she saw in the cracks of the doors faded into nothingness. Into twinkling lights like they were floating through the cosmos. One more kiss and Chloe looked out the window of Arthur's bedroom. The building across from them, the one that'd been on fire, was cooling off. The fire was retreating and taking the damage with it.

_There. All better, see? _ Chloe's body relaxed to the point of being noodly. She felt toasty warm and safe and loved. The tears on her cheeks drying because of the silkiness of the woman's bright red robe against her face. Chloe hummed, _Can you keep them away? Please?_

_Of course I can. _Ariadne—Princess of Crete, Mistress of the Maze—tenderly combed her fingers through Chloe's tangled hair. _Sleep. I'll protect your dreams._ Like a spell (but hardly one of the malicious kind), the Princess' gentle caress on Chloe's cheek coaxed the child back into dreamlessness. Everything faded to a comfortable blackness and there was nothing in her head, nothing in her subconscious but the smell of vanilla and pencil lead.

Up above in reality. Chloe turned snuggled deeper into her covers and hid her nose in the Mistress' scarf.

xxxxxxx

Well a little bit of Chloe and Ariadne interaction! …even though it was in Chloe's head…Yay and Arthur decided to adopt her! And we've got one last chapter before Chloe's seven weeks are up =( sad. But things shall pick up for Arthur. We're heading into the second half here and the future for this story is gonna see some present-timeline, real life Ariadne, Ender, a few Inception team members here and there and some of Arthur's estranged family. Woo!


	13. Greg's Kid

Quickie thanks today because I'm excited to get to this chapter! _Bookwormgirl: _thank you sweets. Hope this is soon enough! I'm trying to keep up! _SiSi4: _Mhm…and uh…sure yeah. Yes…you know me too well lol. I'm pretty cruel to the Point Man. _Neverlandspirit: _I know it'll be sad. And yes! I added it the pregnancy thing in. Thanks for the idea/prompt! _Lauraa-x: _Yeah, I'm sure they look pretty funny together lol. I know =( couldn't you imagine him playing tee ball and stuff with Ender. There may be hope yet! Yup we're right about at the turning point in this chapter! Bumpy it shall be. _Coffeebean: _Yeah. Arthur and his Dad are a right trip! Hostility it the keyword with them. Hehehe all I'm saying (and it's probably no surprise to you) is that Arthur is going to be bombarded by things on all sides here shortly. And thank you! I loved that scene with Ari and Chloe.

We're basically at the turning point—well, the beginning of the curve at the turning point.

P.S. you guys might be a teensy weensy upset with me after this chapter…I like it though.

**Chapter 13: Greg's Kid**

"No, I appreciate you calling back." The little girl listened to her Uncle's conversation while readying her backpack and double-checking if she had everything she needed for dress rehearsal. It was going to be a very long day but they didn't have to be there until 9:30. They didn't begin the run through until ten but all the dancers needed time to stretch and set everything up in the dressing rooms. Everyone could thank the set-builders for their later start time. They were running behind on schedule—everything was built and painted—but they needed extra time that morning to finish assembling. Chloe was beyond eager to see the backdrops and the finished castle pieces. They'd been working with half-painted, partly assembled (if not just the base of) structures so they were able to gauge where to stand and how much room on stage they'd have but today the world of Sleeping Beauty was going to come to life. In vivid colors, swirling spires and sparkling crowns to be exact.

"I was just wondering if you could look into custody and guardianship laws concerning existing family members. More specifically a sibling's child," requested Arthur to the lawyer, the phone lodged between his ear and shoulder. Both of his hands were occupied sliding pieces of fruit onto kebabs for one of their snacks. Lunchtime was dependent on how fast they got through the first act of the show and whether any certain pieces needed to be separately rehearsed again afterwards. They may or may not have had time to head out and grab lunch somewhere but Arthur didn't want to chance anything. He decided to pack a lunch each just in case and enough snacks and drinks for several hours—or a lifetime, Chloe thought, thinking of how much food they had Monday and Tuesday as well. Uncle Arthur broke out his large, rolling, yellow cooler like they were going tailgating and feeding fifty people out of their cooler alone. Or crossing the Sahara. "Yes. It'd be my brother Greg's daughter."

Chloe _did _wonder—however briefly—how the whole adoption thing was going to go down. In truth, when she sat under the covers doing research on Arthur on her laptop (well it was 'borrowed' but it might as well be hers too) or when she nervously bustled around her room packing her suitcase, or even as she sat by her lonesome on the plane hugging Penny to her chest and practicing different ways their first conversation would go…Chloe never dreamed Arthur would want to keep her. Forever. For that first week in the penthouse, as Chloe laid on the pull-out couch every night, she'd replay the days' events and Arthur's distance. His indifference. How come Chloe could love him after never knowing him a day in her life? And the man didn't feel anything but obligation? And to his brother; not even to her. That first week she constantly wondered if she should've left him be. Constantly wished she'd stayed home. She didn't think things would get better and Uncle Arthur would transform into this totally awesome parent. But he did. And now they were two pretty-happy Talesco peas in a pod.

"I believe my parents have current custody. I know. I'll have to have several long debates with them before they'll be willing to even _consider_ a transference. I'd just like to know the stipulations of the law on a generic level before we draw papers or get into anything further."

Oh. Chloe paused after dropping an extra pair of tights in her pack and zipping it closed. She forgot about that part. Uncle Arthur couldn't just sign papers and the deal be done. It couldn't be that easy or convenient. This was legal stuff with judges and lawyers and he was going to have to call his parents and battle it out for custody…he was going to have to tell them she'd been there and stayed with him…and Chloe's lies were gonna start seeing daylight. Her whole secret was gonna come unraveled and she was gonna be in huge, giant, trouble. "Thank you, Jay. I'd do the research myself but my hands much less my head are full with an overwhelming amount of things right now," he packed in all of his carefully food-segregated Ziploc bags into the cooler. "A week is fine. Thank you. Talk to you then." He hung up the phone simultaneous with Chloe's gulp. "Ready?"

Startled, Chloe jumped and accidentally pulled her information packet apart. It was worn, the corner splitting and rolling. The face of most of the pages permanently dimpled from being flipped through and referenced to over and over. Laying the papers down for a second, Chloe grabbed Ariadne's scarf from the coffee table, sniffed it's scent quickly to calm her nerves and stuffed it in the front pocket. "Almost," smiled the kid sweetly, hair falling in her face.

It was brushed, but her waves had swollen in volume and frizzed in her sleep, there wasn't much she could do about it. Her first dance didn't require a bun today but instead some complicated sounding 'half up, half down' do that Arthur was skeptical about attempting. Katerina, one of the older dancers, sweetly offered to fix Chloe's hair for them when they got to the theater. Dress rehearsal also didn't require their normal black leo for obvious reasons so Chloe simply wore pink tights under her regular clothes. She'd chosen a bright royal blue (imagine that) blouse, pleated front, with white peter-pan collar. Her skirt had a blue waistband with tiny white dots and the rest was pink and printed with tons of thumb sized blue rotary telephones, fluffed underneath by ruffles of pink tulle. Her infamous blue rain boots were added to the mix of course and to top it off she donned her new jacket—black warm-up monogrammed with the ABT logo on the back and her name on the front. Each dancer got one with the camp's package and were required to wear it to and from the theater and over their costume when not onstage. Arthur swore she hadn't taken it off since she got it last Friday. He found her in bed with it over her pajamas (and had to gently remove it without waking her) about every night and had an inkling she bathed in it once over the weekend because the edges and cuffs were damp.

Arthur was rolling the cooler out of the kitchen towards the door as the little girl held up her poor packet. "Do you have a paper clip?"

"_Why?_" asked the Point suspiciously. He'd already passed the living room and his back was towards her thus he didn't see her visual aid. His suspicion stemmed from the last time Chloe asked for a paperclip. Never assume Chloe is going to use what she asks for, for its intended purpose. A few days prior she'd asked for one and then hours later as Arthur was taking a nap locked herself outside of the penthouse. Not accidentally. It was very much on purpose. She wanted to see if she could pick the locks and break in with the paperclip like secret agents do. She was unsuccessful and Arthur was asleep for over an hour possibly two. Chloe struggled with her attempt for a good twenty minutes before giving up. She tried with a bobby pin out of her hair for ten minutes…no avail. Then she fell asleep on the floor in the hallway for thirty minutes. Played around in the stairwell that led to the roof (Uncle Arthur still had no clue about that). And then she had to pee really bad. Really, really, really bad. Like two blue gatorades and a water bottle's worth. As luck would have it, Chloe took the elevator downstairs and used the one in the lobby just as Arthur woke and began searching the penthouse for the kid. He came running downstairs in a sweaty, red faced, shaky hand panic to find Chloe sitting behind the front desk with Max. The paperclip bent open and discarded on the marble top and her feet swinging lackadaisically as she enjoyed an Oreo ice cream bar (Arthur had a tab that she was allowed so much on). Arthur was pretty upset—and relieved—he was real mixed up. But Chloe wasn't allowed to play super spy anymore (especially outside of the front door).

"My checklist packet came apart."

Arthur propped the cooler handle against the doorway and shrugged on his suit jacket, "I have a stapler on the desk in my room; just use that."

Chloe's eyes got wide. Her head shook. "I can't."

"Sure you can," Arthur chuckled, "it's easy."

"No, I'm not allowed," insisted the child, her hands going behind her back as if she was afraid of accidentally breaking the rules. "No staplers until I'm eleven. The one in our house is locked away in a secret place."

Arthur tilted his head, "And I didn't think my dad could get any stricter. Come on, I'll supervise, then we've got to go."

xxxxxxx

Any worries over the future fizzled with the events of the dress rehearsal in line of sight. As soon as they got to the theater Arthur sent Chloe backstage to her assigned dressing room (no males were allowed on the girls' side) to put on her first costume. Conveniently, her costumes were already hanging on a rack. They'd been there all week. Since ABT was the only company to use the theater at the time, everyone was allowed to leave their costumes and anything else they felt comfortable leaving there so they wouldn't have too much to haul every day. As she scurried off, Arthur went to stake out a spot in the auditorium. For the shows, all of their things including snacks and dance bags would _have _to be backstage and guardians would _have_ to have a ticket to enjoy the show. For dress rehearsal, however all the parents, instructors (and dancers when they weren't performing or about to go on) were allowed to sit in the audience and watch.

The auditorium felt as comfortable as Arthur's own living room now, having spent an accumulative twenty-something hours there. Monday was a 'blocking rehearsal' in which each dance scene went one by one and walked through with counts, then with music, on the stage to fix formations. It was for them to get a feel for the dimensions of the stage versus the studio-space they were used to. It was more like an entire day for the dancers to get oriented in the new surroundings and work out changes due to location of set pieces or what have you. Tuesday was 'tech rehearsal' which ran (thankfully) faster than the first. They ran each scene with the orchestra a few times for the backstage crew and faculty to decide on lighting changes, fly-ins, curtain rise and falls etc. And today of course is when everything came together with full costume, make-up and hair and ran like the actual show would.

Arthur liked to be fourth row from the orchestra pit in the very middle. He returned a wave to one of the dads who'd been dragged to the studio (they'd engaged in an interesting conversation about the benefits of digital news versus the tangible, literal newspaper once) as he rolled the cooler down the red-carpeted slope of the mezzanine. Arthur looked every bit like a dance-dad. Like an equipped hiker going for a camp. In addition to the cooler, he had Chloe's ladybug backpack on his back, his own satchel (he might do some research on adoption himself while he waited) hanging from his shoulder, her hair toolbox (for touch-ups) in his free hand and Chloe's pillow tucked under his armpit. They'd gotten there early enough that the Point's preferred row was entirely empty. Squeezing in the narrow zone between the fronts and backs of seats, he made his way to the middle.

The staccato notes of strings and flutes tuning in the pit created the mellow background noise as Arthur set up 'camp'. The cooler went under the seat he claimed to sit in and his satchel in the seat next to it—that placement was multi-purposeful. Their first day, there had been a scare where a brother of one of the dancers knocked over his soda bottle. That wouldn't have been Arthur's problem had the boy not been in the row behind he and Chloe and had Arthur's satchel not been set on the ground against the back of a chair. It wasn't too terribly difficult to wipe the stickiness from his Corinthian leather bag but he'd rather not have a repeat. The other purpose was simply to keep anyone from sitting in the seat directly next to him—too many bored ass people tried to engage in conversation with him. And many of them he could tell it was all fake. Arthur was a sharp looking man in a suit, his niece had the best part anyone under the age of thirteen could have, the up and coming solo prima in training (Katerina) treated Chloe like a younger sister and the teachers and staff were very accommodating and friendly to the two of them. And that was all because Chloe didn't have a female figure to help with make-up and costume changes and they were nice enough to assist. But all anyone else saw was that the Talesco's were in the in-crowd and everyone wanted to get next to them to get next to the faculty. (That and who doesn't want to be friends with someone they perceive is rich?)

Chloe's pillow was shoved in the crevice of the seat next to him, her blanket pulled out and draped on top of that. Opening the seat next to that one like a clam, Arthur dropped her backpack on top, sure that the weight of it would keep the seat down, and her hair toolbox was slid under it. The persistant drilling of the castle walls' hinges and cacophony of the orchestra practicing separate parts all at once was largely disregarded by the Point Man for favor of his crossword book. The discordance was overwhelming a couple days ago but by now it was so familiar that Arthur tuned it out. **14 Across. 6 Letters. A childbirth preparation method where relaxation, breathing techniques and informed decisions are paramount.**

Childbirth…**  
><strong>xxxxxxx

_They sat on the bed. Well, Arthur sat on the bed. Ariadne was draped across him; her head on his stomach, her elbow resting on the span of his hips and the rest of her body sprawled out perpendicular to his. The couple had been watching a House Hunters International marathon in a comfortable silence. Every once and a while Ariadne would defend the style of certain cultural areas—she got mad when people did things like move from Texas to say, Holland, and wanted their new house to be reminiscent of their old wild western life. Like, no. If you want to live in a place that reminds you of Texas, stay in Texas. And if you want peace and quiet don't ask to live in the heart of a city and be upset about hearing the traffic if you want to sleep with the windows open. Go to a rural area or close the damn windows at night. Sometimes Arthur would chuckle at her, sometimes he'd agree. When the end of the episode rolled into another, Arthur rubbed her shoulder, "It's probably about time to check, don't you think?"_

"_Yeah," Ariadne tensed and surprisingly not in an enthusiastic way, "I'm sort of afraid to know, though." _

"_Why?" fell out of his mouth, "Knowing or not knowing won't change anything."_

_After pushing herself up, she looked at him and bit her lip. Arthur could sense her anxiety and instinctively petted her knee as she blurted out her concern, "What if it's positive? What if I'm pregnant?"_

_The Point Man wouldn't be surprised. She was certainly burning through the range of emotions and hormonal thought processes like a pregnant woman. Confused, Arthur had to let a hiccup of laughter slip, "I'm sorry, I thought you _wanted _a baby." _

"_I do." Ariadne stated. Picked at the sock-clad feet she pulled underneath her. "I want one really bad." Arthur's eyes narrowed at her. Then why was she so reluctant to find out? Why was she more upset about the idea that she might be pregnant than the idea that she might not? And why were her eyes getting misty…? They flickered up to his, "But you don't."_

_Arthur reared back and raised his eyebrows, "I never said I didn't want a baby…"_

_The Architect tilted her head, her golden caramel eyes boring into him, "But you never expressly said you did." No but they'd talked about it. Often. In great detail. And he was never obstinately opposed to it. They'd been blissfully married a little over a year. They were well equipped, financially stable enough to start and support a family. If Ariadne wanted one there was no reason they shouldn't. Arthur absolutely wanted children with Ariadne…no question. If it happened in the nearer future instead of a more distant one, he wasn't going to complain. It was inevitable anyways, so why not? Still, he felt like an idiot for not expressing a more eager desire to her than he had when she starting blinking back water, "We've talked but mostly I've just bugged you about trying. I mean, I didn't think we'd have a possibility this soon. I thought we'd have to try over at least a year like all the other women in my family. But now it might actually be happening and it's too soon and—and you're not ready. We're not ready. I don't want to ruin our marriage by forcing you to have a child with me—"_

"_Ari," he gently cut her off by taking her hand and tangling his fingers with hers, "You're not forcing me. No one's forcing me. If I _really_ wasn't ready to have a baby yet, if I _really_ didn't want one right now, there are ways I could've prevented impregnating you." Her hand was brought up to have his kiss bestowed upon it, "I love you. I want to father your children. I want to make you happy—"_

_She argued, "I want _you_ to be happy _with_ me."_

"_I will be," promised Arthur, "it's just not real to me yet. If you're pregnant, I will be the proudest, most ecstatic and supportive husband/daddy-to-be you've ever seen. And if you're not, I'll just keep making love to you until you are." He popped her lightly on the leg, "Go check, we're both getting antsy." Obediently, Ariadne rolled off the bed and disappeared into their bathroom. With the room shrouded in sudden suspense, the television was entirely too loud for Arthur's taste so he switched it off and waited. Waited. Waited. His wife tip-toed back in, her face unreadable. "Ari?"_

_A huge, elated, sunshine-filled grin spread across her face, "I'm pregnant." _

"_You're pregnant?" Arthur moved to his knees, the rush of adrenaline fogged up his brain to the point of incomprehension. _

"_I'm pregnant!" repeated the woman victoriously. Her grin got wider after hearing it the second time and she broke out into cheerful laughter as Arthur scrambled to get off the bed and scoop her into a hug._

_His dimples pressed in upon seeing her glowing face, "We're having a baby," and with a congratulatory kiss, her feet rose off the ground and she was twirled in circles. "Are you happy?" asked the man once Ariadne was placed back on solid ground and her dizziness steadied. _

"_Beyond words." He'd never seen the color in her eyes twinkle that brightly. Ariadne was overjoyed and Arthur reveled in the idea that he'd made her that happy. That he was able to give her something she wanted so achingly bad. That he could make her glow and giggle and sigh in long-lasting delight. She faltered, though, for a second and returned the question, "Are _you _happy?"_

"_Sweetheart," Arthur reassured, his forehead pressing softly into hers. His hands tenderly and delicately coming to rest on her belly, caressing where it would grow as it nourished their baby, "I've never been happier."_

xxxxxxx

"Look at the flowers in my hair!" Chloe seemed to spring up out of nowhere in the row in front of him. Realizing that he'd been staring at box number 14 for who knows how long, Arthur lifted his head to her. Katerina clearly used some type of tool (or really good magic trick) to tame Chloe's rat's nest into soft ringlets. His niece's hair was roughly the same chestnut hue as—

_Ariadne. In front of the mirror with a curling wand. In jeans and a fitted black, blue and white color-blocked sweater. Somewhere amidst her daily beauty products laid her scarf—the blue one with the dots. Arthur. Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. Their bathroom was humid with the steam and full of the mixed scents of their respective body-washes: Her Dove Coconut Breeze and his L'Occitane USA. She'd applied all the makeup she planned on wearing that day which was foundation and mascara. He could tell she was pissed she hadn't finished the last section of her hair before he finished his shower. They'd engaged in minimum contact since the night he began packing. Ariadne acted like she could barely stand to be in the same room as him much less the same house or even continent. He used to love watching her get ready in the mornings (or the evenings). Was absolutely memorized by how she operated. How her hair got shinier each time she ran a brush through it, how she painted her face as effortlessly yet precisely as she painted canvases. He loved the candidness of it. Loved how she lifted her chin or raised her eyebrows, the way her mouth opened just a smidge as she applied different creams or powders. How she'd periodically tuck a curl behind her ear and lean her face so close enough to the mirror, he was jealous she might kiss it instead of him. Arthur loved the specific way she wrapped her strands of hair around the wand and the way the curls would bounce after she pulled them off. God, he just loved _her.

_Ariadne kept her eyes fixed harshly on her reflection as he joined her at the sink. As he ruffled his wet hair with his fingers, brushed and flossed his teeth. The Point Man repeatedly stole glances at her through the mirror but her eyes never accidentally flitted to his once. She finished her last section and switched off the curler. Gathered and dumped all her products back into her toiletry bag. But the zipper stuck. The Architect huffed, forcefully pulling the zipper back and forth, a scowl on her face. The scowl melted off when Arthur's arms encircled her, when his hands covered hers and successfully closed the bag for her. He guessed he'd have to take her intent stare at the object as a thank you…he took the opportunity to finger the tendrils of her hair, to pull a bunch of curls back to the nape in her neck as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Ari, I leave tomorrow. Please talk to me." The woman swallowed. "Or a least look at me." Ariadne gathered up her scarf and fled the bathroom. _

Arthur shook his head. The memories were attacking his thoughts frequently again. And were triggered by the minutest, most insignificant, things. It wasn't surprising though. The anticipation of following his lead was keeping Ariadne and Ender in the forefront of his mind. Anyways—_Chloe's _hair. Chloe's hair was, "Very pretty." Part of the top layer on either side was French twisted back to create a crown-like look and all the curls lay gracefully on her back. The man could also see little white flowers sprinkled throughout, creating a contrast like that of whipped cream and caramel. _"_And my dress!" proudly stated the girl, opening her jacket so he could see it. The cut of the sleeves caused them to hang out of her warm-up. Arthur was afraid they would get dirty or she'd accidentally dip them in a drink or something so he scooted to the edge of his seat and began folding and tucking them into the sleeves of her warm-up jacket, "Yes, Bertram did a wonderful job, didn't he?"

"A splendor one," she nodded which made Arthur snicker, "I think you mean 'splendid'." She didn't mind the correction. They corrected each other a lot. But he still smoothed it over by patting her cheek.

"Dancers," the speakers wired throughout the auditorium roared to life, "All dancers need to report to the stage for a brief warm-up. We're going to go ahead and get started while the lighting crew finishes programming the cues. I repeat, dancers to the stage for a warm-up."

Chloe hopped to attention and hobbled to crawl over the seat into their row. "Woah there, Tiny Talesco, let's not literally break a leg before the show." Fluently, Arthur lifted her under the arms, over the seat, and set her down in their row. She took off to her backpack like one of those toys you wind up and then set loose off the edge of a table. One of those toys whose wheels could burn rubber if they were made of such. How much fun would she and Ender have together? They'd be like confetti cannons. Shooting about in flashes. Laughing, giggling, making up imaginary worlds while dressed as dinosaurs and pirates. Just like cousins who grew up together—well, they very well might grow up together. From now on at least. Hopefully. Chloe rummaged around, giving Arthur a heart attack by pulling out a roll of bandages and extra tights and legwarmers and tossing them wherever in her haste. Finally, she pulled her new ballet shoes—shoe—free. But where was her other one?! Out went her old pair and through the air went her stretch-band. The pads of several feet bounded onto the stage along with excitedly hushed voices. Girls were fluffing each other's tutus and doing sautés in first. Some of the males were hair spraying their hair and practicing turns. The backdrop was lowering down and Ms. Willes had appeared up there talking into the pit at the conductor.

Eureka! Chloe knew her new pair had to be in there, her and Uncle Arthur had just bought and sewed them the night before. Arthur had never seen Chloe's bottom hit a seat so fast as she pulled a slipper on. Then she hurriedly hopped on one foot down the aisle pulling on the other. "Chloe," he called, "jacket." Her heel finally jutted into the shoe. Her foot slamming the ground to keep her balance in the process. And like it was as well-rehearsed as the Ballet, Chloe jogged back down the aisle tugging off her warm up as Arthur pulled the cooler out and retrieved a cold blue Gatorade. They exchanged the items via toss in the air (like a juggling act) and Chloe scurried off as Arthur folded and draped the jacket somewhere it wouldn't get dirty or rumpled.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

It wasn't strange at all that the Talesco's brought along a pillow and blanket, in fact it was one of the pieces of advice mentioned in the showcase packet. It was a different case for the older dancers but Chloe's group didn't dance very many times in the grand scheme of things. They were peasant children in the opening and the finale. Act 1 and Act 3. (Chloe's bluebird portion was also in Act 3). So that age group was there for hours on end doing nothing but watching and waiting for their next turn. The children couldn't exactly run around the theater and play during their long break so the theater suggested coloring books or portable video games (only with headphones) and pillows for naps. That way the children could be occupied and entertained but all quietly so as not to disturb the performers on stage. Chloe fiddled around on her iPad a bit here and there but mostly watched in awe with her head on Arthur's shoulder for the last half of Act 1 and all of Act 2.

Act 2 started late because of a prop malfunction and thus lunchtime was cut back from an hour to twenty five minutes. Chloe was entirely changed and all set for the Bluebird already, thank goodness. Arthur had slicked back her hair and fashioned her usual immaculate bun. Two blue feathered hair pieces were pinned to either side of it much like is done in Swan Lake. Her costume was shielded by her jacket (zipped to the very top for good measure) and her blanket (covering the expanse of her tutu) while her and Uncle Arthur picnicked in their seats. He'd found that when overly nervous or excited, Chloe tended not to eat a lot of carbs or meats. Sometimes she'd eat cheese cubes and a few pretzels. It wasn't a conscious decision on her part, the child just naturally craved fruits and vegetables and yogurts and such while she was busy. A lot of light foods. Her body must've been aware she was hyper-active and needed optimal energy. With that in mind, he packed her a peanut butter (for protein) and jelly (heavy on that) sandwich instead of a turkey and cheese like his. He had a tub of cream cheese filled celery sticks, baby carrots, cherry tomatoes and pickle chips. His batch of fruit kebabs (a vast assortment: Bananas, apples, grapes, blueberries, strawberries, peaches and honeydew), some lemon crème yogurts (they tried some at the grocer the other day and it became Chloe's new snack obsession), pita chips and pepperoni (in case he could coax her into it), some chocolate puddings, some rice krispies and a box of fruit gummies shaped like princesses.

Chloe sat with her feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of her picking the cherry tomatoes out of the tub and popping them into her mouth. Arthur was basking in the sound of little girl giggles and squeaky conversations about puppies and dollies and Aurora's gown. Chloe's two best friends from camp, Linny and Emma, begged to come sit with Chloe while they ate (their mothers were exactly across from them on the other side of the auditorium). A couple more from their age group meandered over and sat in the row behind, not being able to keep from joining in about Sleeping Beauty and poodles. They all twittered and munched. Traded goldfish and teddy grahams between each other like world trades. Making meticulous deals like they were exchanging Chinese silk and Argentinian coffee instead of Cheez-its and Chewy-Dip granola bars. Before long, a curious Katerina wandered over to the row in front of them to see what her 'favorite little' (as she called Chloe) was doing. She found just as much amusement in the posse's interactions as Arthur did. And one by one some of her friends took seats, sipping on their water bottles and spectating. Their section was popular…what could Arthur say? As long as Chloe kept laughing and everyone else continued to ignore him, he didn't mind being surrounded.

In fact, he wished he could record the survey they were currently giving each other. Emma brought over a drawing-pad and they had made up a list of questions to ask all the dancers they could during the lunch break and see which answers were the most popular. Normally in a survey there were chosen answers people had to choose from but they were letting people answer whatever they wanted without restriction…Arthur was keen to fix their method. Their answers were funnier when they replied whatever popped into their heads. Their questions were humorous too. Either they were completely vague or incredibly specific. It was Chloe's turn to answer and the children did so as if it were an interview for a morning show. "What's your favorite character that's a little girl from a book?" (That would be one of the 'incredibly specific' inquiries). Chloe pulled a grape off her kebab with her teeth and exclaimed, "Eloise!"

"Favorite flavor?" (And that would be the vague question. I mean, flavor of _what? _Candy? Ice cream? Soda? Pie? There were myriads upon myriads of options.)

Chloe hummed, rubbing her chin and pursing her lips, "Um. Maybe red velvet. Or blue raspberry. It depends on the genre of food." (The older girls got a kick out of that).

Emma jotted it down eagerly as Linny recited it and the little girls in the row behind peeked over their shoulders. "Favorite song."

"New or old?" asked the child flippantly. Handing Arthur her empty stick and being given an opened lemon yogurt and spoon. Emma shrugged and told her say both. "New is…Shake It Off by Taylor Swift." All the other little girls bounced and agreed. Had to state it was theirs too! They love Taylor Swift! "And old is…All I Have To Do by…some old people."

Katerina piped up, "How does that go, Chloe?"

Chloe used her spoon as a microphone, "_I need you soooo and I would die, I love you sooooo and that is why, whenever I want you all I have to do is dreeeeeam." _Of course Arthur recognized it but judging from their perplexed faces none of the others had a clue. Another older girl named Carly asked where she heard it. "My family likes old-timey stuff."

"Isn't that boring?" a kid asked from behind and Chloe looked at her and squinted, "No. It makes me cultured." And the group of older girls loved that remark too. They were live-tweeting (whatever that was) and quoting all of Chloe's cute (intelligent) responses.

Emma cleared her throat and propped her notebook up pointedly, "If your favorite puppy was also a donut, what would it be?" (Why they were put together like that…the Point was afraid to ponder let alone ask.)

"Chocolate glazed Beagle with sprinkles."

And last but not least, "Who's your favorite princess?" Now the girls who'd answered previously went the cliché route. Cinderella, Elsa, Sleeping Beauty. Arthur was a bit partial to Anna or Elsa himself—only because those were the only princesses he really knew and that was only because he and Chloe watched Frozen something like fifty times now. The older girls chatted quietly amongst themselves saying which one they'd pick. Katerina mentioned a 'Belle' and another key word he picked up on was mermaid. But Chloe—she hardly ever said the predictable thing. She gave Arthur a sugary, close lipped smile and went on to proudly state, "Ariadne."

All their faces twisted in confusion and Emma even dropped the pencil for dramatic effect. Linny offered kindly, "Do you mean Aurora or Ariel?"

"Nope." She shook her head and repeated the Architect's name with an extravagant flourish, "_Ariadne. _Princess of Crete."

Arthur was pleased by Chloe's answer and doubly so because of the awkward shifts of all their eyes and Chloe's answering deadpan. She looked at them just as confused. Like how could they _not _know who she was? "Who's that?"

"She's Greek!" said Chloe, spooning in some yogurt, "Mistress of the Maze. She's real; my Unc—"

The interruption came from the speakers, "Attention dancers, lunchtime is coming to a close. Please clear out any trash and get ready for the start of our third act. Thank you." Arthur was kind of grateful Chloe was stopped. He wasn't sure where she was going with that. Like flies being shooed, the dancers around them scattered and the audience buzzed with people following instructions.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Chloe passed out in the taxi on the way home. Not that'd she'd danced non-stop that day, she had two very long breaks but it was an accumulation of everything up to this point. Late rehearsals, early mornings, rigorous class schedules, emotional stress, adrenaline rush, being away from her real home, having to lie to her grandparents about where she was at least once a week, it all caught up to her. She laid lengthwise in the backseat with her head on Arthur's knee. One leg was bent under her like an Indian and the other was propped up in the window. The Point mindlessly petted her upper arm. His suit was covered in glitter as a direct result of letting the child sit in his lap and carrying her to the car; see, the little girl was swathed in glitter herself both because it rubbed off her costume and because they sprayed her down with it from head to toe for her Bluebird part. Oddly, he didn't mind sparkling as the expense of her tiny affections. He was going to be very sad to see her go. Granted, it wasn't indefinitely. But he didn't know how long his other trip would take or the length of time it would take to get the paperwork set to adopt her. He could always have her visit while the papers were being drawn (if he could somehow convince his parents to approve) but then again, he didn't want to pull her out of school. Maybe Spring Break? Arthur adjusted the cuff of her jacket and pulled out his phone. The number wouldn't store in any device. Couldn't be screenshot or bookmarked. But Arthur had memorized it. It rang, rang, rang. He never expected a live human to answer, he always bemusedly waited for the tone of the voicemail.

"Don't delete this message. I know I'm breaking the rules of our arrangement again but this is important for you to know. Greg's kid found me and she's been staying with me during her ballet camp in New York. I've been taking care of her the past seven weeks and we've gotten along incredibly well. I'm dream free right now and will continue to be from now on. I'm working on terminating my last, uh—consulting— contract and have a lead on Ari and Ender's whereabouts. I want to discuss the possibility of opening up the lines of communication between you guys and I again. And I'd like to adopt Chloe...I'll be keeping this number for a while longer so you can reach me hear for further negotiation."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_The voicemail came on for the eleventh time causing Arthur to lividly hang up and redial. He was going to continue until they unplugged the phone or answered. He wasn't about to leave a message that'd be deleted before it was listened to. He was going to pester them. He needed answers and he needed them NOW. Finally, a deep and angry rumble shouted through the receiver, "Arthur Nicholas Talesco, what part of 'dead to the family' do you not understand?!" _

"_Have you spoken to Ariadne? Has she contacted you?" Arthur ploughed on without so much as a thought towards the greeting. _

_The man grumbled, "You're lucky I picked up the phone, son, don't you dare start interrogating me like I owe you explanations." _

_He knew that was no way to get anything out of his father but he was desperate. He was falling apart. And he couldn't do anything but sputter and rasp and beg for information by pretending he was demanding it. "Did she ask you to black her and Ender out? I can't find any scraps of information on them. It's like they don't exist. When I search them, the same thing pops up as when I search all of you. Nothing. Did she—"_

"_Yes. Her and Andrew have been added to our secure network. Nothing of theirs filters through to internet servers," Arthur's father replied coldly. Unflinchingly. He took no bullshit from Arthur. He'd been disappointed in him for a long time but this took the cake and he wasn't about to sugar-coat anything. He wasn't about to comfort him and give him any kind of hope. He was going to make sure the consequences of Arthur's actions crushed him as heavily and cruelly as they should. "She requested I do the same for her family in North Carolina to ensure you don't pester them for intel as well. Expect the rest of the Bourgeois' to go dark by tonight." _

_Arthur took one of her empty drawers from their dresser and heaved it across the room, taking a lamp out with it as it split in half against the wall and tumbled to the ground. "Why—How could do you do that to me?!"_

"_No, you selfish son of a bitch," corrected the senior Talesco in a disciplinary growl, "How could _you_ do _that_ to your wife? I raised you to be more honorable than this. Your mother and I—hell even Greg—thought you were turning around, thought you were finally making something honest and good of your life and then you had to go and abandon Ariadne and Andrew for that illegal mind-shit."_

_Arthur kicked the foot of his and Ar—well just his—bed. "I didn't abandon them—"_

"_Might as well have."_

_Continuing to argue, "I came home and _they _were gone. SHE left ME." _

_His father wrathfully ripped Arthur a new one. The younger man could even hear his dad's fist pounding on his old mahogany desk as he lectured, "And could you blame her? I don't. To be absent all but a few months here and there in your parents' lives, your brother's family's life, your cousins' lives, that's one thing. But to skip out on your wife and son two-thirds of the year, every year—you deserve to be blocked out of their lives. As far as I'm concerned, you did that yourself before she ever called me."_

_He was right. Arthur's dad was absolutely right and that's why it cut so deep and pissed Arthur off. Because he wasn't just being over-strict, stubborn, patronizing dad like normal. He was telling the truth. Arthur painstakingly reeled in his confrontational tone and evenly pleaded, "Dad, I know what a screw-up you think I am. But I realize this was the biggest mistake of my life. I do. I love them unequivocally and I want to make this right. I need you to undo the blackout so I can find her and beg her to—"_

"_Don't call us again."  
><em>xxxxxxx

"Don't delete this message. I know I'm breaking the rules of our arrangement again but this is important—" Genevieve Talesco, a salt and pepper haired Italian woman paused the message machine and called her husband. "Emilio, it's Arthur…"

The man's stern voice preceded him as he stormed out of the kitchen, holding the phone, "I know. I saw the restricted number. Delete it."

She put her hands on her hips and turned her head, challenging the man, "It's been years since we've heard a peep and he says it's important. We should at least listen first. We don't have to reply."

Emilio put the phone on the table next to its cradle and folded his arms across his chest, "We absolutely won't reply." Arthur's mother had been dusting when the call came. She liked to clean twice a day. Morning because it made everything seem fresh and at night because she couldn't sleep with the buildup of dirt compiled during the day. Anyways, she set her dust rag down and pressed the play button "—for you to know. Gr—" then the back button, making Emilio listen to the beginning.

"Don't delete this message. I know I'm breaking the rules of our arrangement again but this is important for you to know. Greg's kid found me and she's been staying with me during her ballet camp in New York. I've been taking care of her the past seven weeks and w—" Emilio reached over and paused the machine again; both he and Genevieve looked puzzled at each other. "Greg's kid?" repeated the mother. As if saying it again would make it make more sense.

Emilio knew she was there but reassurance in the heat of the moment was always a relief so he backed closer to the stairs and yelled up, "Maddie? Madison, come here!"

Sounds of feet creaked through the ceiling and then made dense sounds as they jogged down. "Yes, Granddad?" A girl with light olive skin, straight black hair, hazel eyes shaped just like Greg's and a mouth just like Sydney's attentively entered the room.

"You haven't been in contact with your Uncle lately, have you?"

Madison tilted her head, "Uncle Ronnie?" she mentioned the one on her mother's side. He came and got her every other Sunday for family dinner at Sydney's parents' house. But Granddad and Nana knew that. They'd made the arrangements with her other grandparents to make sure she got to see her cousins and everyone on that side regularly.

Genevieve shook her head and pursed her lips, "Your Uncle Arthur."

Realization dawned on Madison's face, "Ohhh, Daddy's brother." Her head shook slowly and confused. Why would they ask that? That was a silly question. "No, I thought we weren't allowed."

There was no way Madison would've flown to New York without them knowing. And for seven weeks at that. That was a downright lie…not a day went by the past seven weeks where they hadn't seen her. And ballet camp? Who did Arthur think he was fooling? Madison didn't take ballet. She was a soccer girl, tried and true, like her father. Emilio rolled his eyes and deleted the message, "I guess that damn Somassium—or whatever—drug has finally cooked his brain; He's just grasping at straws to get a reply anymore. I don't who the hell that boy thinks he's trying to fool but he's not getting a rise out of us."

xxxxxxx

*squinty-face*  
>TWIIIIIST! Were ya'll expecting that? Our sweetheart is an imposter…luckily, right now, his parents cut off the end of the message and aren't going to reply so her secret might be safe…until idk lawyers get involved. How devastated or upset or angry do you think he'll be if and when Arthur finds out? Should he find out before or after she goes 'home'? You think he'll still want to adopt her or be like…'You're not even related to me? What is this? Go home little kid' ? Could you imagine him not knowing and going to find her again and not being able to because she's not who she said she was? And definitely not living in California with his parents?<p>

I know. I'm evil. I'm sorry, I love the twist.

On the other hand. What a tiny little mastermind is that child? Arthur was somewhat of an easy target…no interactions with anyone ever, no way to look up things about his family…there was no way he could verify who she was. Too easy.


	14. Deserve Is A Funny Word

_The Pink Archer: _I'm sorry! Thanks for reviewing chapter thirteen though! I really appreciate it! Who is Chloe…you will find out very soon! _Coffeebean: _Hahaha…you guys know I like twists dangitt. It's been so clear cut and straight forward so far it was bound to happen amiright? This is true…Arthur's job is complicated and his old employers are pretty ruthless. Did they really have _Greg and Sydney? _Or just vague maternal and paternal figures? I don't recall mentioning them by name in any of her flashbacks. ;) I do love me some Interstellar and Mackenzie Foy/Murph (her eight year old brunette self obviously) is Chloe's face claim but no I can say that's not it. I love Arthur's dad too lol. _Lauraa-x: _Yeeeeeeaaaaaaah. I mean actually, she's pretty intelligent. She could do it on her own. Nope I can assure you Ari and/or the team are not involved in Chloe's shenanigans. _Neverlandspirit: _Aww no, don't hate her! Thank you for reviewing! And no problem about the scene! _Bookwormgirl: _Right? Chloe's a badass little kid. I think Arthur's too much of a softie to turn to her away for good especially after messing up with Ari and Ender but…Yay I'm glad you do! Thank you! Thanks _Kellouka2 _for adding me as a fave author! Sorry I forgot to thank you last chapter.

P.S. Is it evil of me to get a lot of amusement and joy from your reactions of the last chapter? Haha.

P.P.S. I think I'm about to upset you guys again.

**Chapter 14: Deserve Is A Funny Word**

Ariadne's crinkled, yellow lined, note had lived in Arthur's pocket since the day he booked his flight to North Carolina. His fingers brushed against it to calm his nerves and his thumb rubbed at the corners to quiet his mind. It was something like a totem to him. One better than a red dice. Who needed a tiny fixed-weight cube when the ink curved into the squiggly lines of her handwriting could be taken everywhere instead? It was almost like holding her hand, wasn't it? Or that's what he'd tell himself when something would trigger his memory, flare his anxiety, and cause waves of nostalgia to wash over him in tsunamis. She was so close he could taste it—taste the cherry chapstick coating her bottom lip and the foamy hot chocolate she drank at night.

_It was incredibly early for any morning much less a Saturday. Arthur practically skipped up the steps to their townhouse, giddy to be home. Happy to run his hands along the smooth, white, railing of their porch and feel the tepid metal of their brass doorknob. He didn't bother with his suitcase or duffel bag. He left those in the car so he could carry in a huge stuffed dinosaur, a brown bag of wrapped boxes and a bouquet of flowers. Because it was barely four am and Ariadne and Ender would be sleeping, Arthur decided against knocking and let himself in as quietly as possible. Both of his loves were heavy, heavy sleepers but he still winced when his keys jingled as he hung them on the hook next to hers. He set the animal and sack of presents on their sofa so he could put some water in a vase and set Ariadne's flowers out on the breakfast table. It was a beautiful large arrangement of white, pink and peach carnations—her favorite and he couldn't wait for her to get up for coffee and notice them. He couldn't help buying a single red rose too to bring to her bedside when he crept in because it was the symbol of love and he just couldn't pass it up in the flower shop. The stems were neatly cut. Arthur meticulously arranged them just so and then tucked the rose into his inner jacket pocket. _

_Then filled with excitement, Arthur grabbed the other gifts and slinked down the hallway. He couldn't stand the wait. He wanted to see his son's ecstatic blue eyes light up as he ripped open presents. First, he lightly knocked on the little boy's door, "Guess who's home?" All the lights were off. Ender wasn't afraid of the dark like Ariadne was as a child. His ability to sleep comfortably in the pitch black was something he got from Arthur. "Ender," whispered the man as he leaned over and switched on one of the lamps, "Dad's got presents!" _

_That boy and his mother slept like the dead, Arthur chuckled. He crept towards the bed to gently shake the boy's shoulder, "Ender?" But the child wasn't there. Arthur _was _a full week early coming home. Sometimes while Arthur was working Ari and Ender went home to visit her parents, they may not be back yet. But Ariadne's car was still in the driveway and her keys were at the front door…So maybe Ender was sleeping in their bed. He did so when he wasn't feeling good or had a nightmare. No matter, Arthur was content to surprise them both at the same time. All dimply, Arthur cracked his bedroom door open too, "Ari? Ender?"_

_He didn't want to blind them by turning on the overhead light, that would cause for a rude awakening instead of a warm and pleasantly surprised one so he set the presents down, tiptoed to Ariadne's lamp and switched it on, "Psst, guess who?" Her side of the bed was empty. In fact, her side of the bed was made. Puzzled, Arthur went back and turned the overhead on. With the light, it was easy to see that some of the drawers of their dresser were open and their closet full of nothing but empty hangers on one side. He barged into the closet and looked at the overhead shelves for her sea foam green suitcase. It was gone. All of her duffels and bags and carry-ons were gone. "No, no, no, no…." muttered the Point, powerwalking back to the little boy's room and slapping at the light switch. _

_All the major pieces of furniture were still there, the rug, a few stray unimportant toys (like his baby blocks he told them he was too old for, some generic firefighter action figures and an activity book and some crayons) were on the floor but his toy box of favorites was cleaned out. The boy's bed looked slept in but not recently and Arthur found Ender's closet emptied out too. His small suitcase and backpacks gone too. His shoes, which were often strewn around and mix matched in the bottom of his closet, were all gone. A few of the pictures on Ender's walls were absent from the frames and his baby keepsake box…was missing. _

_And that's when it hit Arthur like a baseball to the stomach. _

"_Ariadne?" he shakily called out into the empty space. Afraid of the silence that was sure to answer. "Ender?" Frantic, Arthur paced through the house, opening doors, scanning rooms for their belongings. None of their books were on the bookshelves. Her old Architecture study books, her favorite classics, Ender's bedtime books. Too many frames were empty. Her favorite throw blanket—the one she cuddled up in every time she watched tv on the sofa—it wasn't draped where it should've been. The decorative vase her grandmother had handed down to them on their first wedding anniversary, it wasn't on the fireplace. The kitchen's pantry was still stocked but the fridge had nothing perishable in it. Water, eggs, butter. That was the extent. "No…" Arthur pleaded under his breath as his chest seized up with fear and regret. As his body became weak and tingly from the insurmountable distress, "Please, no." He broke the locks kicking their back doors open. Sprinted the perimeter of their small yard, noticing her herb garden was dry as a bone. Dead from neglect and abandonment. "Ariadne!" Noticing Ender's blue tricycle rusted to the point it looked like it was painted orange from the start. "Andrew!"_

_He left the French doors open. Overlooked the dirt and wet grass he tracked into the house as he ran back in. Arthur was groping, searching, for anything of hers or Ender's to show they were planning on coming back. The Point Man stumbled his way to their laundry closet in the hallway, "Ariadne?!" Opened the washer. "Answer me back, dammit!" Opened the dryer. Took the empty hamper out and slung it against the wall. "Don't do this to me!"_

_How could she do this? No. What had _he done _? Why did he leave when she begged him not to? Oxygen was slowly being sucked out of the house. "Ariadne! ENDER!" Arthur burst into his study to find it the way he left it save for a book. _

'_Ender's Game.' It laid all lonesome and profound on his desk. He always cleared off his desk when he left, so he knew she'd purposely left it there for him. He felt a temporary relief when he opened the book. There was a folded piece of lined yellow paper stuck between the cover and the first page. Seeing she had left a note of their whereabouts so he wouldn't be worried, calmed his shot nerves. That is, until he actually read it: _

You're free now.  
>Dream of me every once in a while.<br>-A

_And just like that, they were gone.  
><em>xxxxxxx

Arthur paced the kitchen floor in the dark. His bare feet tip-toeing against the harshly cold tiles to keep from waking Chloe. She slept like a rock for the most part but it was in the most inconvenient of moments that that child awakened easily. It wasn't very late: Half past nine. Or nine thirty-eight if you want to get specific. They got one show down, the next day would bring another and then their last day together would be upon them. Arthur didn't like to dwell on it; he just liked to live in the present and enjoy the moments he was in instead of thinking about how fast they were slipping by. Call number seven, his second glass of red wine, and finally there was an answer. Albeit a biting one, "You need to stop calling or I'm going to change this number."

"Nat," He jumped at the voice. After getting used to the mundane string of phone rings and beeps of voicemails, he was expecting a dial tone or an automated message not a human. He quickly moved around the island to get to his opened laptop on the breakfast table. It's bright white and blue light made him squint while he enlarged one of the internet tabs, "I just want to know which hospital Gerry and Shannon are in. I want to pay the medical bills." He thought that would be a good gesture. Something to break the ice and demonstrate compassionate intentions. His numerous credit cards were laid neat and organized on the side of the table ready for their information to be entered.

The Architect's cousin shot him down, "Ariadne's got that covered. They don't need any money."

Was it insane that hearing her name made his heart jump? Just like it had when they met, when they first started dating? Like every morning he woke up as her husband to her beautiful mess of hair and sleep-flushed cheeks? He clung to what he could of her. And her name, no matter whose lips it fell out of, was like a raft in the middle of a shark infested ocean. His mind clawed for it, grabbed at the fray of it. Just the same, he closed the tabs related to the different hospitals he'd narrowed down to and opened the one of a centrally located florist. Arthur _had_ to show he cared. That he was there to support her and her—_their_—family. "Then I want to send flowers."

"There's enough up there," clipped Natalie, hardly meaning it when she said: "Thank you."

"Let me send some to Ari at least. And I have a stuffed penguin picked out for Ender," Arthur insisted, his volume rising above her beginnings of protest, "Are they at Mission Saint Joseph's or Park Ridge?" He'd already had everything picked out. The stuffed animal for his son… He was going to send a bouquet of calla lilies to Shannon and a European dish garden to Gerard. Carnations were Ariadne's favorite but he was torn between those and roses…he opted for a customized bouquet of both white carnations (with red tips) _and_ red roses. He was going to send her two of them. With the note:

'_Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel like you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.' –Jiddu Krishnamurti  
>I'm here for you and the family. With all my love, still,<br>-A.T._

It was heartwarming and admittedly a little nerve wracking for the Point Man. He'd already typed and deleted and retyped it too many times to count. And searched google for appropriate quotes regarding love and freedom for an hour. Natalie's lack of cooperation was making him rethink the wording and possibly the arrangement in the bouquet again. Did the quote he picked sound as if he meant their love was _not_ one that allowed freedom? Should he scratch it and say something simple like 'I'm sorry'? Or was he thinking too much on his personal motives…would she think it was selfish? Maybe he should only mention his well wishes for her parents and worry about the rest for their reunion in person. Should he just send two dozen roses? Or was that too forward after time apart? Should he send white roses as a sign of asking for forgiveness? Or should he stick with her favorites? Should he send them to the hospital? But he didn't know which one… "Perhaps I'll just send them to the house." Arthur decided he better stick with his gut, do as he'd finally decided, and place the order or he'd be up contemplating it all night.

"Arthur, you don't unders—UGH," All of a sudden, Natalie sounded furious. She was annoyed seconds earlier, sure. But Arthur sensed the shift. Sensed the protectiveness again. Sensed how she despised him for having the audacity to even _want_ to send flowers. To even ask to, "You can't. You can't come running back to her now. Not after what's happened."

His had brushed against Ariadne's note. Made him breathe again. Kept him from jumping to conclusions. Made him close his eyes and evenly ask, "Did she say that?"

Natalie sighed, defeated, "No…she doesn't even know you've tried to contact again." But the woman was quick to bounce back and snip, "But it's useless trying."

"Until I hear those words from Ariadne's mouth, I won't believe there isn't a chance. I'm flying out to North Carolina Sunday night." The man reasoned that Ariadne was too stubborn, too determined, to flee and leave her parents just to avoid him so he was free in letting them in on his plans.

"No. Don't. There's no reason."

Arthur argued loudly, "The reason is I still love her," before remembering Chloe was snoring away a couple rooms over and reluctantly lowering his voice again, "I still love my son. You are _all_ still my family and you're going through a difficult time. If there was ever a time I needed to be there for them, for her, for all of you it's now. And I've got to show that from now on, I WILL be there. That my family is my number one priority now. "

"It may not seem like it but I'm not just looking out for Ariadne; I'm looking out for you too. Pursuing this is just going to bring _everyone _heartache." The phone beeped. After checking his screen, he realized it was on Natalie's side. Call-waiting. And briefly, fleetingly, he wondered if it was his Architect on the other line. Natalie must've checked it too because she took a quick deep breath and hurried to finish their conversation. "It's going to destroy you more than you _think _it's going to repair you."

"_Not _pursuing it will destroy me," averred Arthur, "I need them. I need her."

Natalie sternly (but also pleadingly) maintained her stance, "There's nothing for you here, Arthur. Stay home."

xxxxxxx

The night before the last show was officially upon them. Arthur was setting Chloe's garment bag out so they wouldn't forget her costume the next day and the little girl was going through her paper-clipped checklist to make sure everything she needed was either laid out to put on in the morning or packed in her bag. Pink tights? One pair set out to put on, one back up pair in her backpack in case she got a rip? Check. Ballet shoes? The new ones? Check. Leg warmers for warm up? Check. Cover up? Check. She should lay that out. As super excited as she was about the last performance of Sleeping Beauty, she was also incredibly gloomy. She didn't want to leave Uncle Arthur after they'd become so close. What if she went home and he couldn't find her? Or worse, what if he never even tried to find her? Or even worser…what if he never tried to find her because he found out she'd been lying to him since the second she knocked on his door. He had a ton of secrets he kept to himself so it was only fair she had some too right? Ugh. Chloe was terrified someone was going to call him back and tell on her. And she was deathly afraid he was going to hate her when they did. Would he take back everything he'd bought her? Would he turn her room back into his study? Would he send her back and tell her he didn't want to adopt her after all? At least she'd made it all seven weeks without anything slipping through…it'd be easier to go home and never hear from him again than to have him angry with her in person. Chloe took the towel on her shoulders and wrung the ends of her wet hair with it.

Suddenly, an urgent and relentless pounding came from their front door. Chloe heard it all the way in her room over the low hum of her tv and came trotting out to the main room. They never ever had visitors. Uncle Arthur didn't allow anyone up, Mr. Max knew that. Who could it possibly be? It sounded like one fist against the door turned into two. The chain on the door rattled from the vibrations and made Chloe jump back and grab the corner of the wall at the edge of the hallway. Like the drywall was an iron shield. Her heartbeat rapidly sped up to keep time with the strikes of the wood. "Who is it?" she asked Uncle Arthur at a normal volume and was immediately hushed. It faded…the knocks. Not the noise. Because there was a low rumble of an agitated male voice. This was the one time she felt nervous because of the gun Uncle Arthur pulled from under the coffee table and hid in his waistband. She was used to him carrying it around as a precaution. She wasn't used to the idea that he might actually have to use it. Arthur crouched down like whoever it was could see through the walls and into the windows and prompted Chloe to squat down and duck her head too. "Go back to your room, Chlo, and be _very_ quiet. Turn off the tv. Turn out the lights. If it gets loud, lock the door and hide in the closet, you understand? If you feel like you're going to cry or accidentally make noise muffle your mouth with Penny. "

The pounding was back—as if the Point Man's careful and whispered instructions weren't enough to scare the living daylights out of the child. Scrunching her face as she backed towards her door slowly, she squeaked, "Why…?"

"Because I said so," replied the man gravely. His eyes told her it was of the highest importance she get to moving and that she better not disobey, "I'll come get you when it's safe." Did that mean it wasn't safe that minute?! Wide eyed, she did as she was told and crawled down the hallway and into her room. She obediently turned everything off and grabbed Penny however her curiosity got the best of her and after she shut the door so Uncle Arthur would turn around, she cracked it back open. Listened as Uncle Arthur stealthily made his way to the front door, hand on his weapon. The fear of the unknown coursing through her was palpable. The Point Man made what was about to happen sound extremely dangerous; maybe that was why his job was so secretive. As Uncle Arthur disappeared behind the edge of the opening to the hallway, Chloe bit Penny's hoof to keep herself quiet.

Vigilantly, The Point Man looked out the peephole and saw a younger man in a beanie, dark jeans, a blue checked shirt and black blazer angrily beating his fist against the door without letup. He didn't recognize him as an affiliate of any of his former or potential clients (and he read up on them all incredibly well). It was possible the guy could've mistaken him for another Arthur Nolan. There were two in the city. The other was listed as Arthur _Beck_-Nolan and lived in a shabby loft apartment with his friend Matthew Strong. They had a band and were closer to this guy's age. One of the reasons Arthur chose to stick with his 'Nolan' alias was to create extra confusion for the people who looked for him. This was a reverse outcome he didn't account for. But you never know…so Arthur readily pulled out his glock and cracked the door, "Can I help you?"

It was a _very_ young man…a teenager. Arthur realized. One of the male dancers from the studio, maybe? It wasn't the one Chloe was assigned to. The guy rudely barged his way in, shoving Arthur back with the door and demanding with hard eyes, "Where is she?"

What was he looking for his girlfriend? Then he most definitely had the wrong place. Bewildered by the disrespect and lack of basic doorstep manners the Point Man puffed up and curtly asked, "Excuse me, who are you?" He was ready to put him in a chokehold for tromping dirt inside the house much less for being impolite and having the gall to push him (and put his hands on Arthur's suit).

Chloe couldn't see the intruder, only Uncle Arthur as he'd been thrust backwards past the table he dropped his keys at every day. She didn't have to though. The girl recognized the voice immediately and knew she was in deep trouble, "Uh oh…" From the guy's tone, it was clear he was certain she was there and hiding longer would do nothing but make it worse. It was happening, things were falling apart. Chloe exchanged frowns with Penny. Then, grimacing, the little girl took a big breath and hesitantly tiptoed out of her room and into the main area, Penny's hoof comfortingly holding her hand. Chloe met eyes with the intruder and wanted to curl into a ball. The young man scolded, "You are in _so_ much trouble…What are you doing here?"

Chloe looked to Arthur nervously but clutched Penny to her neck and answered the intruder, "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't that difficult. Did you forget I was coming in for the last show?" Actually she had. That was the part of the plan she hadn't thought through enough. Thought she'd think of something when the time came and then time crept up on her too fast. Her response was to look at her feet despondently. Suspicious, Arthur stood closer to Chloe as if he could protect her by mere proximity (which he could). Arthur eyed him threateningly as the guy spoke, "You think we haven't been tracking your purchases? I knew something was up when you bought a prepaid phone on your layover in California. I called the camp yesterday to speak with your chaperone and low and behold, I was informed that you cancelled your dorm stay. That an _'Uncle Arthur'," _here his fingers bent twice to make air quotes, "was bringing you back and forth." The young man sized Arthur up and down with scrutiny then commanded harshly, "Get your stuff. You're leaving."

"I don't think so," Arthur completely and defensively stepped in front of Chloe who in turn grasped his hand and peeked out from behind him. Who begged, "Booger, please, my last show's tomorrow!"

"Chloe," Arthur looked down at her, "Who is this?" The little girl wouldn't answer him. In fact, she avoided his gaze and hugged his hand tighter. Booger. Who the hell was that? Whoever he was, he and Chloe knew each other very well and he appeared to have an authority over her.

Booger remained unmoved. His arms crossed over his chest, "I've got a hotel room. I'll take you to the theater tomorrow. You're not spending another moment with this _stranger_. What have the three of us taught you about strangers?"

"He's _not_ a stranger!" Chloe yelled back spitefully. Her eyes were unnaturally rough-edged and vicious. She met Booger's ire pound for pound.

Tilting his head, Booger squinted at her like she was illiterate, "What because you've known him seven weeks?" He nodded in the direction of the Point Man, "He's not your uncle. And if he knew _that_, he wouldn't have kept you here and taken care of you. He would've turned you away like any kid in the system."

Not her uncle? System? Wait what? Was Chloe a foster kid? Arthur's jaw clenched before looking down at the little girl and studying her as if seeing her for the first time again. Was the boy pulling his leg? It sounded like Chloe had pulled a fast one over on him. You know, he'd never seen a birth certificate...Could it be that this little girl was an imposter posing as his niece? Were they even related at all? Was the reason she loved Annie so much because she _was _just like her? An orphan who'd snaked her way in and stole the heart of a rich man?

"Yes he would!" Chloe determinedly stepped out from behind Arthur with her hands on her hips, "He's nice and smart and good!" Then pulling a face which looked every bit of defiant as it could, like it was a chide at the boy, like her next sentence was as good as calling him Stupid-Head or sticking her tongue out, "He's going to adopt me."

"_Adopt you?" _It was like the guy was malfunctioning. Half of him was visibly upset by it, jealous even, but half of him was really amused. He guffawed at her with exaggerated confidence. An air of superiority that could thwart her with four little words: "He _can't _adopt you." Chloe's face fell such a drastic proportion that Booger felt bad about it. He reined back. The sardonic smile was wiped off as he sighed and tried to explain in a more compassionate way. Arthur was surprised the boy was capable of such a sympathetic gaze, "Him adopting you is impossible. You bel—"

Arthur had enough of the encrypted conversation he was listening in on. He straightened and held his hands out. He got voice got deeper and louder and it shot some fear into Chloe's toes. "Hold on. Before another word is said, I demand to know what's going on." First, he directed his attention to the small child in front of him. He took her shoulders and bore his eyes into hers; he couldn't miss her worried chewing on her bottom lip, "Either you _are _my niece or you're _not. _You've just been posing as her. Which is it?" He turned his head, "And don't you dare lie to me, Tiny."

Chloe's eyes watered, her lip quivered…she looked to Booger then back to Arthur and then her head dropped guiltily. Her chin pressed to her chest in remorse for weeks of lying to him, "Greg's daughter is Madison Rae Talesco…she's older than me."

Arthur was peeved (to say the least) he'd been deceived and by a child no less. But mostly, he was heartbroken because he'd come to care for and love this little girl, thinking this whole time that they were related. That they shared blood. And what felt worse was that in spite of the lies she told him; he felt that he still cared for and loved this tiny stranger. He had seriously thought over (and basically decided to) adopt his niece as his daughter and together they would do what it took to find Ariadne and his little boy. What a disappointment. The one person who'd brought life, love, and light back into his life—who gave hope that he could be the family man Ariadne wanted and deserved—had been lying to him. Arthur thought he'd been redeeming himself, been paying his dues to his brother, and instead he was being manipulated. "Why would you do this?" He shook his head sorrowfully down at her. "I opened up to you. I treated you like family and you've taken advantage of me. You've disrespected my brother, used his death as a part of your ruse."

"I—I'm sorry," she sucked the salty tears from her lips, "I just—"

"Was this a game to you? Was it funny?" accused the Point as Chloe timidly backed away from him, shaking her head profusely and dropping Penny as a result of her mental strain. She was now trapped between the two boys, Booger behind her and Arthur in front. "You get a kick out of seeing how much I would spend on you? How much I would confide in you?" She's always loved being the center of Unc—well, Arthur's—attention but found herself shying away from it now. Squinting her eyes like he was the sun and looking at him hurt. Her small hand reached behind her for comfort from Booger and was thankful he took it willingly and understandingly. She wasn't exactly thankful for his: "I told you it'd be like this."

Arthur thought about his plans for he and Chloe's future. More let down than he was annoyed. Would it be any different now? No…I mean, he could still do it. Chloe could still be a daughter to him and Ariadne. And still be a loving, rambunctious, big sister to Ender. But there was one obstacle this new situation created. Chloe—or whatever her name was—must've looked up rich businessmen in New York, did a little research (or _a lot_ actually) and came to him for an escape. Booger said she couldn't be adopted. She most likely already belonged to a foster family. Was already legally adopted. Was this another kid from the foster home instructed to come snatch her back? "Who are you_ really?" _He peered at Chloe then at the boy, "And who are you? I want the full truth from the both of you. I deserve it."

Booger raised one of his eyebrows, "Deserve is a funny word." It was like he was entertained by Arthur's confusion. He liked lording his knowledge of the truth over Arthur.

Chloe twisted to face Booger and requested, "Don't. It's just one more day until I'm supposed to leave."

"Exactly."

She tugged his arm. Used her puppy dog eyes, "Let's not tell him and just go. It'll ruin everything."

And he shrugged and apologetically softened, "I think everything's already ruined."

As hard as she worked to keep too many tears from falling, it was for nothing after that sentence. Chloe's face contorted again and her voice cracked, "Please! I've tried so hard to get him to love me! He's going to _hate_ me!" Arthur was taken aback by that. He felt a sliver of guilt for daring to feel differently about Chloe just because she wasn't who he thought she was. That didn't mean she was a completely different kid. That didn't mean her crazy facts didn't make him laugh anymore or her sweet deeds and words were made up. It didn't take the meaning out of every 'Thank you, Uncle Arthur' and 'I love you, Arthurnaut'.

"Chloe, trust me," Booger stood firm and put his hand on her shoulder. A gesture less for her relief and more to show he was in charge and his decision was made for both of them, "this is for the best." His head angled down towards her with genuine reason in his eyes.

Infuriated, she ripped herself away from him and started yelling at the top of her lungs, at the height of her breath. Her voice all raspy and grated. "No! It's not!" Her face was redder than the cherry tomatoes Arthur had been packing in their snack boxes. Booger grabbed her fists after she pounded him in the stomach and chest with them a few times and gave her an irritated glare of warning. Her returning glare held watery pools of indignation and her fists were squeezed into fists, "You don't know what you're talking about! You—you—" she couldn't think of anything meaner to say than, "you Dummy Pirate-Head"

Booger released her hands, pointed at her and raised his voice (but not quite to her volume) "I know more than you do!"

"Tu ne comprends pas," she scowled, "Il est désole et il nous aime vraiment!" Arthur bewilderedly darted his eyes towards the young girl. Where had that come from? Chloe just spouted out French as easily as spitting out a glass of water. And her accent, her pronunciation, her inflection was all impeccable.

The young man shook his head, his facial expression copying hers. Arthur thought that Booger might be confused too but no, he fluently segued into French as well, "S'il le faisait, il nous aurait trouvé il ya longtemps. Arrete de pleurnicher!" Booger threw his hands above his head, "I have to! _Especially_ after you've—"

Chloe huffed and made a screaming noise (with her mouth closed), hands jamming over her ears, crying the way you'd expect an eight year old to. She was having a tantrum. A full on meltdown like Arthur had never thought he'd see from her. Her face and neck scarlet, the tears flowing and collecting on her eyelashes. Her foot stomping at least once. She crouched in the floor, "I can't hear you! I'm in a parallel universe!" Why did that sound familiar?

With a roll of his eyes at her, Booger looked at Arthur and pulled off his beanie. Arthur never would've imagined he'd say, "You know, it kinda hurts that you don't recognize me—"

"_No!_" Chloe whined. Curling further into herself.

"Arthur-Dad."

Chloe shot up from the floor and reprimanded him, "_Ender!_ That's not fair!" then plopped back onto the couch and quieted. Heartbrokenly sniffling and picking at her nails.

The world came screeching to a halt so unbelievably fast that Arthur felt the whiplash. In his neck, in his back. Arthur felt chills run through him and freeze his blood over. Of course…He thought the teenager's eyes were incredibly blue but it wasn't until the boy took off his beanie and he saw the jet black hair with it did he take the time to notice that they shared the same nose amongst many other things. "Ender?" asked the man breathlessly out of shock at the same moment he frantically felt inside his pocket for his totem. For Ariadne's note. "Ender? But it can't be. You're supposed to be six, seven at the most." How could it be? Was it another trick? He couldn't be a teenager.

But as Arthur was knocked upside the head with the truth, reality sunk in. He _could_ be a teenager, couldn't he? It was true. The days since Ariadne left felt like an eternity. They crawled by. The years drug on like a piece of laffy taffy being stretched. On and on and on. But here, this second, Arthur realized that somewhere along the line he'd subconsciously decided that time stopped when Ariadne and Ender left. It was his coping mechanism: to believe that whenever he found his family it would be like nothing had changed. That he could still be a part of Ender's childhood, that he and Ariadne could still raise him together. So he used his memories he to keep Ender young. Every year he told himself the little boy was turning six or seven. Then six or seven all over again even as Arthur's own age climbed. That's why he had nervous breakdowns when he saw pictures of them, when he saw glimpses of them in people on the street: Because then that small part of his subconscious that knew the truth (that knew it'd been more than two years) was reminded of the time and love lost. All the annoyance he felt in regards to the boy was erased as immediate and simple as if it was marker on a dry erase board. Arthur deserved for the boy to tromp dirt into house. He stood there gawping at him, stunned.

Ender deadpanned, "Seven? Your mathematic capabilities have certainly diminished on your own. You haven't been in my life for years." The boy blinked, "Eight and a half to be exact."

_Eight and a half _years? Chloe's age…

Chloe felt the shift. She sensed the moment the puzzle pieces clicked together for Arthur. And bashful of his reaction, she zipped from her seat on the couch to behind Ender. Arthur's eyes widened, his gawk dropped down to the child in incredulity. Aghast. Amazed. Awestruck. He stared at the little girl like he'd just discovered water on Mars. Feeling that whiplash a second time. Chloe wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and hid part of her face from Arthur both sulkily and shyly. Ender confirmed it as he reach back and rubbed Chloe's shoulder in gentle, reassuring, circles "You can't adopt Chloe because she already belongs to you. She's your daughter…."

xxxxxxx

_Ariadne sat on the closed lid of the toilet, her right heel anxiously bouncing. Her eyes were clamped shut. She could vaguely hear her husband and son playing around in the next room but the rush of the sink faucet and the whir of the fan drowned out the specifics. She took a deep breath. In her nose, out of her mouth. Then the Architect counted: one, two, three. Open._

_Two pink lines…Pregnant. Again. That was something that would've once made Ariadne ecstatic. Now she felt a crippling dread. A nauseating swirl in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with morning sickness. It wasn't because she herself didn't want another baby. In fact, right after having Ender and experiencing his babyhood she was sure she wanted another somewhere in her future. But—Arthur—it couldn't have been worse timing. Their marriage was crumbling rapidly, like pillars of sand. Arthur was fixing to trot off for half a year. She wasn't sure if she could handle an (almost) five year old and a newborn all by herself. Even if she stayed with Arthur, he wouldn't be around enough to help. What, a few months while the baby was a newborn? As soon as he was confident Ariadne had the two kids under control he'd be back into dreaming. The Point Man was too busy for the child he already had and Ender suffered emotionally from it. Why would Ariadne want to subject another baby to that? Knowing the baby would be just as confused, feel just as abandoned. But there was no way she was going to get rid of it. _She _wanted another baby regardless if it was accidental. Why terminate a child because of the father? It would be good for Ender to have a little brother or little sister. _

_Should she tell Arthur? No. With how she'd been acting? What would he think? He'd think she was using that as a last ditch effort. Trying to manipulate and guilt him into staying. He might be angry with her...then again, even if he wasn't angry. Even if the idea of another child miraculously sounded exhilarating to him, would that change _anything? _He'd reason he'd be back by her third trimester. He'd still leave. And he'd believe that giving her another baby would pacify her, keep her at home. And he'd use that to keep going off on jobs because why would she leave him with two children to support? He wouldn't do that out of meditative, planned, will. He wouldn't purposefully use it against her, of course, she knew that. But it would happen. Another child gave him that sense of comfortableness, that subconscious safety net to believe she'd be around forever. The three of them waiting on Arthur forever. Like that Time Traveler's Wife shit. Because why would they leave? It just allowed him to keep going in circles. Intentionally or not._

_Rubbing her forehead she stood and hid the pregnancy test, box and all traces of it inside another of her tampon boxes. Ensuring Arthur would never find it unless A) she told him or B) he was the first man ever to have a period. Furiously, she forced herself to get it together before she started to cry and shut the faucet off. It took another deep breath for her to be able to turn the knob and step out into their bedroom. Their drawers and closet were all opened wide, stacks of Arthur's clothes sat on the bed waiting to be stuck into one of his bags. The duffel was on the floor and his suitcase sat upright by Ariadne's nightstand. He wasn't leaving for a week but being Arthur, he liked to pack that far in advance to ensure he had everything he'd possibly need. _

"_Wee!" Arthur tossed Ender into the air and caught him, eliciting a ripple of giggles. He looked over at his wife to see if she appreciated the amusement in the interaction as much as he did but she wasn't paying attention. Instead, Ariadne was pressed into the frame of their bathroom door with head in hands doing her best not to let Ender see her upset. Arthur instructed the kid on his hip, "You're going to be a good boy and take care of mommy while I'm gone, right?" Ender nodded as Arthur kissed his cheek and then ran off obliviously to play with his toys down the hall when Arthur put him down. When the man was sure Ender was caught up in trains and stuffed dinosaurs (he knew from the silly voices and choo choo sounds coming from the boys' room), Arthur snaked his arms around Ariadne's waist and cajoled, "Come on, Sweetheart, don't act so distraught." She didn't push him away; She let him hold her but didn't show recognition to his gesture, _

"_I can't help it. You're breaking my heart."  
><em>xxxxxxx_  
>xxxxxxx<em>

hehehe. How about _that_ twist? That was actually kind of two in one chapter. I've been waiting on this chapter the past 14 chapters. Lol. Do you think this drastically changes the entire story? Any realizations suddenly dawning on you? And any questions? I'm always happy to re-explain. (Keep in mind some things are deliberately left to be answered in later chapters).

Soo…Ender's 'new' faceclaim in on my profile. Along with a pic of him and Chloe and Ariadne and some younger pics of the kids.


	15. My Daddy

_Neverlandspirit: _You're always the first to review! I love it. Lol. And yes. Eight years. Arthur's a schmuck. It really does turn the story on its head. _Kellouka2: _Hey Kelly! Thanks so much for weighing in! Yep, she's Ari's daughter. Crazy, eh? You were on the right track! Some explaining is certainly coming your way. _Bookwormgirl: _Indeed. Everything IS CHANGED. No. I will confirm Ariadne's not dead. Sydney's dead. Chloe was pretending to be Sydney's daughter. Chloe however _does_ miss her Mommy and has anxiety over it. I won't comment on the Dad thing…;) As Nat implied…it's complicated. And you're welcome! Glad you enjoyed your present and hope your entire day was great. =) _Coffeebean: _Such is a twist. To be fair I deliberately tricked you guys into thinking Chloe being theirs was impossible. I kept you in Arthur's head where Ender was still six. How could they have an eight year old together? I had my cousin read it and tell me if my twist was too easy and she was like wtf no. I both agree and disagree with you on Arthur knowing. I do feel like the right thing to do would've been to tell him but I also can't fault Ariadne for acting adversely. Because he was that emotionally messed up after she left! Coping mechanism. (The shrink may not be a bad idea though). We'll see, we'll see. Oh, my dear, this isn't angst yet…lol. Maybe a little in this chapter but definitely next. Don't work too hard! _Lauraa-x: _Oh good! I tried to write the previous chapters in a way that would make complete sense upon a second read with the knowledge she was A/A's kid. Yes, that's exactly it. You could say he had a sort of PTSD. Ah yes, it was meant to be cryptic because Arthur's not supposed to know much but fear not, it will be explained probably a little this chap and a lot next chap. I'll reveal that Chloe does not have a twin. Yes, Ender just doesn't know he's changed yet. And being a young child at the time, his complete understanding of all the mixed emotions and everything behind the situation is skewed. Plus he's grown up with his mother, he's biased. You know me! Yes, I'm wiping my forehead. Like thank God. I've been bursting at the seams keeping it a secret. Lol.

Thank you _Loverofallthingsliterary _for following and favoriting the story! YOU ROCK.

**Chapter 15: My Daddy**

_Ender remembered hearing the conversation but at the time and at his age he wasn't paying enough attention to grasp the full meaning of it. Mommy talked on the phone all the time about grown up stuff, it wasn't a big deal. He was more concerned with coloring in his Batman activity book and watching The Backyardigans. His mom was sitting in the kitchen at the island with a stack of papers and he could hear his Mimi on speaker. Naturally, both Ariadne's voice and the phone were toned down to a volume Ariadne thought Ender wouldn't pick up certain topics at. _

"_Mom? I need your help." The cartoon penguin on the television needed help too. It asked Ender if he knew which shape made a stop sign so the child focused on that. A stop sign was—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight sides…what'd mommy say to help him remember? Oh, an OCTopus has eight tentacles so—OCTagon! _

"_What is it sweetie?" The sweet, southern accented voice of Ariadne's mom asked, drowned out by the animated cheers over Ender's correct answer. _

_The boy was sharpening his yellow pencil (to fill in Batman's belt) over the trashcan so the shavings wouldn't get anywhere. He was like his dad when it came to cleanliness. In the background, his mom took a deep breath and choked out, "I'm leaving Arthur." Ender overheard but the context of meaning meant something entirely different to him. Arthur-Dad left him and Mommy all the time and then came back with presents and sometimes cake for them. So in his four year old mind, it was exciting. Him and Mommy would leave Arthur and then come back with presents. And maybe cake. That would be fun. Where would they go? Maybe Disneyland-Paris! _

"_What?" Mimi sounded confused and shocked. Maybe she was a little jealous; they could bring _her_ presents too if she wanted. Like a scarf or flowers…those were always what Arthur-Dad brought back for Momma. _

_Ariadne rambled, "He's never home. I never see him. I can't live like this anymore and I know he can't either. We just fight…he's not happy. I don't know what to do." True, Arthur-Dad was never really home. Ender sometimes wondered if Arthur-Dad actually lived with them or if he just visited sometimes when he was on vacation from eggs-crack-shun (he'd heard Mommy and Arthur-Dad say that word a couple times). But he supposed the man visited when he could, like they visited Mimi and Papa when _they_ could. _

"_Well , are you thinking about separating? Does he know how close to the breaking point you are? It's Arthur, dear, I'm sure if he knew—"_

_Ariadne huffed, "He knows. But he's so caught up in his work that he can't help it. I told him I couldn't do it again, that I'd had it; that if he left this time, I would too. I told him Ender and I wouldn't be here when he came back."_

_Mimi stuttered, having a hard time believing it, "And—and he still left?" Ariadne's silence was all the reply the woman needed. She sighed but Ender could tell his Mimi had gotten _mad_, "Go online and file for divorce. Or call that man the two of you use, Jay Jernigan. Have the forms done up and serve them when he gets home." Now Ender remembered hearing that plainly. But 'divorce' was not in his vocabulary yet so he overlooked it and fished for his black pencil…he could've sworn he put it by his light and dark greys._

"_He won't agree to a divorce," Whatever it was Momma was arguing about she was sure she was right. "He'll just beg for another chance and…I'll give it to him." The characters on screen were singing a fun song that made Ender want to bob his head and bounce around on his feet. But somewhere under all the lively music he heard some sniffles. Ender turned over his shoulder just enough to peek without her seeing he was and saw her with her head in her hand. Her face scrunched. Mommy was crying…"I love him too much. If he asks, I'll stay. And that just enables us to keep doing this…to keep going in circles…we've talked and talked about it but Arthur just doesn't get it. And I can't, Mom. Ender deserves better than a dad who's never around and Arthur deserves better than a wife who's forcing him to quit doing what he loves for a family he isn't ready for. It's what's best for everyone but—" To cheer her up over whatever hurt her feelings, Ender decided he would give her his finished picture. He decisively turned and worked harder on his coloring. "If I'm going to leave, I have to do it before Arthur comes back. It's the only way we could handle it."_

"_Ok. Then pick somewhere and move out," came Shannon's determined fire, "You want me to help you look online? I'm turning on my computer right now—"_

"_I'm scared to run off alone." Scared? Momma wasn't scared of anything. Ender knew Batman would help. She could hang him on the wall in her room and then she'd feel safe. _

_Mimi encouraged, "You've lived on your own before. And you've basically lived with Ender on your own for years."_

"_Yeah but—" The younger woman hesitated, "I'm not going to have just Ender anymore." Ender knew his mom got quieter so he wouldn't hear but he'd started ignoring the bubbly characters on screen when he found out his Mommy was sad. He'd heard. What did she mean 'not just him'? Were they getting a puppy? They must be and she wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe he was getting one for his birthday this year! _

"_What do you—"_

_Ariadne whispered after another sniff, "I'm pregnant again, mom." Wow. That was a key word Ender did sort of understand. They were getting a baby. He hoped it was a boy he could play trucks with. They should call him Oliver. Ender liked the name Oliver. But could they still get a puppy?_

"_You're _what_? That selfish son of a—"_

_Momma started and turned the volume of the phone even lower. Ender was sure to look engrossed in his tv show when she cast a glance over at him. "Arthur doesn't know."_

_Oh…so Arthur-Dad didn't know they were getting a baby? Maybe that was the present they were going to bring back. Maybe him and Mommy were leaving for Storkland to pick out a baby to surprise him with. _

"_Why didn't you tell him? You need to tell him," urged Mimi. Ender was puzzled by that notion. Why would you tell someone their present? It would ruin the surprise. _

_Ariadne got up (with another look at her son), turned the tv volume up, and walked to the window in front of their sink. Maybe she thought Ender couldn't hear her if she faced away and all the animals were dancing and singing about manners but—he could. He had to really think hard and listen for her though. "I don't want him to feel trapped. I don't want him to think I'm one of those women…using the last resort…getting myself pregnant—"_

_Mimi corrected, "There is no getting _yourself _pregnant."_

"_I don't want him to think I'm using it as leverage. To guilt him into doing what I want. He'll hate me for it in the long run…He wants to dream and I want children. We can't have both and make it work. If we stay together one of us will always be unhappy. I want _him_ to be happy. I want the kids to have a stable life. I'm tired of Ender being confused. I have to leave."_

_Mimi got very stern after that. She sounded like Mommy did when Mommy told Ender what to do. But that made sense it was Mommy's mommy. "Ok. You know what, baby? Come home." _

"_But I—"_

"_Pack up all your stuff, ship it to the house and you and Andrew come home. We'll figure out everything else together, alright? You just _come home_, Ad." Yay! They were visiting Mimi and Papa! _

_Once Ariadne hung up, Ender hurriedly finished his note, tore out his page, and ran to present it to her. "Look, Momma, it's for you." Batman stood proudly on a rooftop and next to his head was a big red (lumpily shaped) heart. In barely legible writing, blue lead read: _' I'm desole u are triste Momma. J' TAIME, Ender.'

_The Architect put on a huge grin and swept the boy up to her hip, tickling his face with gratuitous kisses, "Merci beaucoup! It's a masterpiece!"_

_His small arms encircled her neck and played with the knot of her scarf at the nape, "I heard you were scared. If you put Batman sur votre wall, he'll help!"_

_She feigned surprise and then nodded, "I'll give it a go."_

_Ender and Ariadne both regarded the picture. Batman's courageous stance and hard eyes through his mask. The spot his bat signal should've been sitting in the sky was colored over by Ender's heart but just as well, that signal was better. "If he doesn't help, then I'll be your superhero."_

"_That's very sweet, Booger, mais it's supposed to be the other way around," she held his waist and dipped him so that he hung upside down and she could blow raspberries on his stomach. Ender's hysterical laughter put a real smile back on her face and the boy was glad to see it when she brought him back up. "We can be superheroes together then…I'll be your sidekick."_

_Momma pretended to think and then gave him an affirmative nod, "I can very much live with that."_

_Ender punched the air with his fists and announced to their empty house, "Super Momma and Booger-Boy!" Ariadne chuckled, and darted around the kitchen, making wind noises as they turned corners while Ender held his arms out like wings and pretended to steer them. When her arms got tired (Ender wasn't a big little boy but Ariadne wasn't a big adult to begin with) she set him down on the stool at the island. Ender briefly read the papers that'd been strewn out. They said something like sep-er-a-tion and cus…cust-o-dy. Seperation and custody. What was that?_

_Ariadne gathered the papers up and moved them before he could look at them any longer, "Do you want a grilled cheese for lunch, Booger-Boy?"_

"_Mhm!"_

xxxxxxx

The initial shock rendered Arthur speechless. He kept darting his eyes back and forth between the two children. Finally, they settled on the little girl. All the times she'd heard him talk about Ariadne, all the times she'd shared her own stories of her mom and she never said a thing about them being the same person. Never slipped up. Arthur almost needed to hear it said again—"Your mother is…?"

Ender dipped his chin and filled in the blank, looking at Arthur dumbly, "Ariadne."

Arthur shook his head to clear it then stepped towards them. His gaze remained on Chloe as he tilted his head, "You're mine and _Ariadne's._" She wasn't sure whether that was a statement or a question or whether he was finished with whatever it was but the child nodded anyways.

"_Your mother_ is…" the Point's gaze was back to alternating between his son and daughter. He stuttered. Not just his words, "Is—is your mother—" but his footing too. He stumbled around them, tripping over his own feet to the front door. Chloe looked up at her brother, "Did you think we broke him?" Ender didn't have time to respond before the sound of the door swinging open and hitting the stopper and Arthur's footsteps clomping up and down the hallway. The both leaned to peer out the door in confusion then were startled straight as their dad scrambled back into the penthouse. Desperate. Tongue-tied. "Is your mother here? Is she downstairs? In the city? Where is—"

Ender regarded Arthur with wide-eyes as if the man was insane (because he was acting like it). A quick glance down at his little sister and he'd see his facial expression mirrored back. "She's not in New York." A part of Ender liked the despondency that fell over Arthur's face at that. "She wanted to see Chloe be the bluebird more than anything," said the boy. Making sure their mother's wishes were conveyed to the tiny ballerina, "but she couldn't. She had to stay home with Mimi and Papa." Chloe nodded sadly but understandingly.

Stay _home_? Did that mean North Carolina was home? Did that mean she'd been living there near her family right under Arthur's nose this whole time? Did that mean all the Bourgeois' lied to him about his family living there? Never mind that, these were two direct lines to his past standing in front of him. His two children had all the answers. Everything Arthur could possibly need to know could be answered by them. "How is she? Is she handling everything ok?"

Ender bit, "She's surviving. Though I'm not sure why you even care." That smidge of annoyance Arthur felt because of the boy started to come back. He turned his head and gave Ender a warning look for speaking to him so nastily. Funny thing (well, not to Arthur) was that Ender raised his eyebrows and looked back with boredom. A face that said, 'yeah I said that. And I'm not sorry,' _just freaking like_ his mother would've done. The young man then tapped Chloe's shoulder, "Have you been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs or do you have a room?"

"J'ai une chambre." Chloe took her brother's hand and led him to her bedroom. Arthur stared dumbfounded after them. This was not the little boy he remembered; not just in a physical sense or age-wise but in terms of personality. Their son was imaginative and bubbly and full of excitement and joy like Chloe. Now Andrew was cynical and closed off and sardonic. He was…holy shit—he was Arthur. "See," Arthur heard the girl state proudly, "He decorated it for me."

Ender didn't comment either positively or negatively. He looked at everything she'd laid out by the door, his Talesco instincts catching on to the organization technique, "This is everything you need for the show tomorrow?"

"And my garment bag in the living room." When Chloe replied she didn't expect her brother to scoop everything up. To sling her backpack on his back, to drape the clothes over his arms and pick up her shoes by two of his fingers. "Come on, let's go," he coaxed.

Chloe shook her head as she followed him back into the main area, straining to pull her backpack off of him, to beat him to her garment bag. All the while she pouted, "But I want to _stay._"

Arthur stepped in and noted, "She can stay if she wants, Ender." It earned a glare.

"You'll have to go home after the performance tomorrow anyway," Ender lifted his free hand in the air and reasoned with her. He didn't understand the point of one more night. _He_ was there now and he probably knew more about taking care of Chloe than Arthur did.

Aggravated at him, the little girl put her hands on her hips and continued to fuss, "Why?" What was the rush? Why did they have to go home _as soon_ as she was finished?

Ender looked highly offended by her attitude, "What do you mean _why_?" He dropped her stuff to the couch (momentarily!) so he could put his beanie into his blazer pocket and gesture with both hands fully. "We have to go home to Papa Gerry and Mimi. They need us. Don't you miss them? Don't you miss mom, at all?" His gaze cut up to the Point Man for a split second and then accused, "Or has he rubbed off on you and now you could care less?" Arthur reared back and gave Ender and incredulous look…one more comment of such a nature and he was ready to pop the oversized bubble Ender called his head. That or he was fixing to become every bit like his father—General Emilio Talesco—and do some stern lecturing about the proper way to address the man that helped bring you into the world. On the contrary, Ender's words spiked some guilt in Chloe. And she thought about all the family waiting for her at home. She did miss them. She missed them all _so much. _The fact that Ender had to question if she still cared made her feel horrible. Made her drop to the couch and start to tear up, "I'm sorry."

In turn, her actions made the boy melt. His eyebrows unwrinkled and his face softened into one of complete compassion. One that looked like he'd cry just because his little sister was. (That was his Ariadne Bourgeois gene shining through). He quietly sat next to her on the cushions and put his arm around her. Gentle. Soothing. "No, don't be. _I'm_ sorry," his hand rubbed up and down her upper forearm and his tone was just above a hush. Sweetened and pacifying, "I know you love all of us. I didn't mean to shout. I just feel a little shocked and overwhelmed…"

The little girl wiped her eyes dry and leaned into her older brother for comfort, "I've missed you, Booger."

"I've missed you too, Chlobird. It's been too quiet around the house." Arthur watched the young man as he chewed his lip and examined the ballet gear that surrounded him. Ender grimaced then sighed in resignation, "It's late. Why don't you put on your pajamas? I'll pretend I don't know anything and let you stay here tonight if that's what you want." Chloe nodded enthusiastically, a smile coming back to her face. "Go on then. I'll see you at the show." She hugged his neck, kissed his cheek, "J'taime," and then trotted back to her room. Her things piled in her arms to set back out where they were.

That left the two Talesco boys alone. Ender stood, pulled his beanie out, and put it back on to leave. He showed no intention to acknowledge his father again as he turned for the door. Before he was out of sight, Arthur felt he needed to address Ender's attitude towards him and his disrespect in general. He followed his son into the hallway so Chloe wouldn't hear the argument. Grabbed his elbow and urged him to turn, "I understand this situation is upsetting, trust me. But I'm still your father and you have no right to speak to or about me the way you do. Especially in front of your little sister, that's no way to set an example."

Arthur swore the boy reacted _exactly _how Ariadne would. Ender's head tilted up and slightly to the right, one eyebrow up. The same movement and expression the woman used when challenging someone. "Why not? It's the truth." And what amazed Arthur even more was that the boy sounded _exactly _like him. His voice was still going through its change but it was very close to how Arthur's sounded as a teenager. And Ender used the same monotonous tone.

The Point Man let go of Ender and emphasized when he said, "Despite what you think, I love you and your mother. Very, very much."

Ender's wry upturn of lips, his squinted eyes rolling as he looked to the side and shook his head was _so_ Ariadne. And the hands neatly shoved into his pant pockets was _so_ Arthur. It freaked his father out. Ender was a perfect blend of his parents. "Abandoning us was a strange way to show it."

Oh no. Arthur needed to get one thing straight. The anguish he felt that day—the moment he turned on the light and found their closet empty and their bed made—it came racing back and he was angry at her. For making him seem like the bad guy when she broke _his _heart. For making Ender hate him when_ she_ took and kept him from Arthur. He nearly yelled, "_She_ left _me, _Andrew. And took you—and, and Chloe—with her. _She _cut _me _off. _She—_"

Accusing Ariadne was in no way the smart thing to do. Of course Arthur wasn't going off strategy, he was going off raw emotion. But it pissed Ender off; his blue eyes filled with a fire that practically made Arthur see a golden brown no matter where he looked. He started to yell, his voice cracking, "Don't you _dare _try to turn mom into the villain here! She begged you not to go. She told you she would leave if you did. And you know what? You went anyway!" The boy's gaze was hardboiled. He remained unmoved by Arthur's attempt to sound like the victim. He hissed, "And then you didn't come after us. _Eight _years and you didn't come after us!"

Arthur's heart sunk. How could everything be so misunderstood between them all? Arthur frowned, "I _tried_. She didn't want me to. She ran to my father, had him use his military status to black out all information about the two of you."

Ender negated, "So? Remember when you and mom would come into my room at night after a nightmare? Those few times you were actually home, I mean. Mom's job was to chase the monsters away and you said yours was to find them and make sure they never came back. You told me you could find anyone or anything in the whole world no matter what." Arthur swallowed the hard lump in his throat when Ender dropped his gaze, dropped the excess of anger and showed the four year old Arthur remembered hiding underneath. "You _could've_ found us if you wanted to." The disappointment shining through to Ender's visage revealed his true feelings towards Arthur. Like most teenagers, he acted mad and hateful but really he felt let down by his father. Ender felt unloved; he was hurt. "Momma gave you an excuse to use and you took it."

"I've been making plans to start looking again," the older man tried to appease. To defend. To reconcile.

Laughing dryly and without humor Ender added, "After eight years? What's the point? What would've happened if Chloe never came? Would you have kept living your life?"

Arthur didn't answer. He pressed forward, "I was fixing to fly out to North Carolina because I figured out—"

"I don't believe you. Why should I believe you?"

Déjà vu. Ariadne had asked him the exact same thing during their last fight. And here was their son: Ariadne's same expression plastered on his face and Arthur's voice shooting out of his mouth. The harsh push of a button and the ding of the elevator was what propelled Arthur back into the present. Back to the boy's flippant, "Yeah. Thought so."

"Ender—" Arthur took a step forward. He wanted to pull the boy into a hug, something, anything. But his son waved him off and headed inside the box, "I've got a car waiting. I trust you'll get Chloe to the theater on time." He turned his attention to the phone pulled out of his pocket while Arthur watched the doors close.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

Ender wasn't simply frustrated with Arthur because of his own feelings and issues in relation to his parents' separation. A lot of it stemmed from protectiveness of his mother. Ariadne was the definition of super-mom. He and Chloe may not have had a father but Ariadne made sure it never felt like their family life was lacking. They were two of if not _the_ most loved kids ever born. A day never went by where they didn't feel like Ariadne loved them with her whole heart and then some. She did her best to be mom and dad. She took them to tae kwon do and swimming, ran back and forth from soccer games to dance recitals. Ariadne helped the kids bake for school fundraisers (even though they really never _needed _money, in fact Ariadne donated a lot to other kids who needed help paying dance tuition or were a few hundred short for a soccer uniform), she stayed up late to assist in finishing science projects and book reports, carpooled. She made each birthday more special than the last. Every day was filled with tiny adventures that most people don't take the time to find or create themselves. Ender still remembered when he was ten and sprained his ankle at soccer practice at the same time a five year old Chloe caught the flu. Ariadne balanced working from home, carting around a boy in a boot with crutches, and tending to a sick little girl all at once.

It was an instinctual motherly trait to harbor her own emotions in favor of keeping her children happy and carefree. But as Ender got older and more in tune to his surroundings, he started noticing more of the things she tried to hide. He inherited the intuition from his father—he was a details boy. He picked up on the fleeting wistful glance at families of four they saw in public. A few times he got up to grab a midnight snack or glass of water and caught her crying when she thought the kids were asleep. In little ways, he started to understand how much she loved and missed Arthur…and he resented the man for not caring enough to find them and ease her pain. His mother was so wonderful and selfless that he couldn't imagine (or stand) anyone hurting her. At thirteen, almost fourteen, and wise beyond his years, Ender was too aware of the countless sacrifices Ariadne made for he and Chloe. And he just wanted his mother to be wholly happy including beyond closed doors. Chloe was mostly oblivious to the whole Arthur thing. She'd never known life any different and Ariadne tried to keep it that way. (She didn't even think Ender remembered or knew much of it. But he let her believe he didn't know about the shoebox under her bed filled with memorabilia relating to his dad). Of course Chloe wasn't stupid, she knew a dad had to be involved (not the mechanics) but she didn't know exactly who it was (or so they thought) or why he didn't live with them. Ariadne never shut down conversation when it was brought up but her answers were always short and sugar-coated, politically correct with a quick change of subject. Starting at age eleven, Ender thought it best to protect Chloe from that knowledge. So when the little one got curious and brought topics of the 'dad' nature up, he diverted her attention. She'd be happier not knowing they weren't important enough to be found and it'd ease the awkwardness for his mom.

As the boy hopped into the passenger side of the car and buckled, a not so savory memory resurfaced. It was a fresh memory, one from within the last year or so. Brought about by his most recent discussion with his estranged biological father and the negative emotions that ensued.

_He jogged up the stairs and into the house. Immediately, he saw a gift bag with an assortment of colorful tissue artistically sticking out of it and rolled his eyes with some amusement. He thought the shoes might be on the table by the front door…nope. Or even on the island in the kitchen? No. He'd have to ask. The house seemed extremely still and quiet—more so than would be normal. No records playing low in the background, no clicking of his mom's laptop keys or telltale brushes of her pencil. Inquisitively, he crossed the bottom floor and looked out the sliding doors leading to their backyard. No mom out there. He tilted his head and listened for any footsteps overhead that told him she was getting laundry out of their hampers upstairs, no. What he did hear as he stood at the steps leading up were the faint sounds of tears coming from her bedroom on the other side. It made sense, she thought Ender and Chloe were out._

_He crept up and peered through the crack. Sure enough, his mom was sitting on the floor against the bed. The shoebox was opened, pictures neatly laid out on the ground, one in her hand, and a tie hanging over the edge of the box. "Mom?" _

_Startled, Ariadne glanced up. "Ender," Right away she cut off the sadness and forced a sunny smile. He watched her hastily and frenziedly, wipe her cheeks and toss everything into the box as if Ender wouldn't see if she went fast enough. "What are you doing? I thought you were going to wait for your sister and play your 3DS with Toby." Toby was the older brother of one of Chloe's dance friends. As long as the girls had been taking class together, him and Toby had been passing time at dress rehearsals and practices together._

"_I had to come back. She forgot her new ballet shoes."_

_The woman hiccupped a laugh and rolled her eyes, "That child…I told her to put them in her bag right after I sewed the straps but she insisted on testing them out last night."_

_Ender smirked, "She left Miss Weakley's thank you present by the front door too."_

"_Let's see," Ariadne sniffed and wiped at her eye while standing and kicking the box behind her and partially out of his sight. "Where did I see those shoes last…?"_

_Ender gave her a sympathetic look. No question that both he and Chloe were mommy's kids. But even still they both inherited Ariadne's bleeding heart. Ender had a habit of taking on Ariadne's emotions as his own (Chloe did too but usually the happy ones. She basically _never _saw Ariadne unhappy in the slightest. Probably because she wasn't old enough to analyze and pick up on the subtlest of tells despite being smart for her age). "Momma…"_

_Ariadne pursed her lips at him, "I'm fine Ender. I was sweeping the dust bunnies from under the bed and my allergies got to me." He gave her a look that said he didn't buy it. And she gave him a 'drop it' type look right back. "Why don't you find me a bag to put her stuff in?"_

"_Yes ma'am." He sighed._

_He went upstairs. Instead of hunting through Chloe's room for a bag, Ender thought it'd be easier to grab one of his old ones from his room (since he knew exactly where they were). His school backpack was in the chair at his desk and his soccer duffel was in the bottom of his closet near his shoes. The only other bags he owned were unused and stored away on the top shelf of his closet. On first glance he saw his lime green and purple Ninja Turtle backpack from elementary school, that would do. Except when he pulled it down another backpack fell with it—His cookie monster one. Arthur brought that backpack home for Ender after one of his many trips away. It had been his favorite as a child. He took it everywhere, wore holes out of it. One of the straps even came off—Ariadne sewed it back on for him after he refused to use any new backpacks. It also just so happened to be the one he used for the plane ride. Both from Paris to Papa Gerry and Mimi's and to where they currently lived. He tossed it to the side, his eye catching more things up on his top shelf he hadn't seen in years. The boy reached over his head and felt a square-ish frame. _

_It was a dust-covered picture of Ender and Arthur making over exaggerated angry faces with the bottoms of their chins pressing together. For a long time it had been on his nightstand. Ariadne made it a point not to put a ban on things that reminded them of Arthur. For her personally it was easier to hide sentimental things away but if Ender wanted a picture of him in his room, she didn't object. If he wanted to talk about him, she sucked it up and talked about him. But it wasn't too often because Arthur was gone enough while they were together that being on their own seemed normal. Ender rarely missed him. And she never painted Arthur in a bad light. When Ender asked, she reminded him of the love Arthur had just that things didn't always happen the way you want them to. It was ultimately Ender's decision at the young age of nine that he didn't want anything that had to do with Arthur anymore. He was indifferent for years and he had no need for memories of him. It only turned to resentment when he grew a smidge older and felt the full effects of abandonment…not directly, but when he found out the toll it took on his beloved mom and started digging and learning more of the full story._

_That's why it was both saddening and infuriating to look at the picture. You could feel the father-son relationship they once had (the one Ender subconsciously wanted) through the picture. The way their eyes laughed as they peered down their noses at the other. They could've done so much together. All four of them. If Arthur had just come and found them. Both of his parents had tempers but he was more like Arthur in the way he dealt with his. That was: extremely well until he blew up. And here he blew up—he threw the frame across the room and clawed at the shelf to pull other things down. Old toys Arthur bought him, one of the ties he stole and used to wear around the house and then—Arthur—the teddy bear he named after his dad when they all still lived together. The one he subconsciously put in that role since the real Arthur was never there to fill it. Yelling, he slammed the bear into the wall by its feet over and over. His mom must've heard the commotion because she appeared in his doorway confused, "Ender?" He kept slinging the bear into things, knocking off trophies and books with it. He went to pull its head off when Ariadne sprinted into the room, "Ender! Ender, stop! ANDREW." Ender was nearly in tears, "I hate him!" Ariadne's arms wrapped around her son to stop him from moving and force him to calm down. "I hate Arthur!" He screamed and slumped to the ground, pulling his mom with him. _

_Ariadne pried the bear from his death grip and set it aside, "It's your favorite childhood toy…"_

_Ender corrected, "No I hate _that man_. That careless, good for nothing—"_

"_Don't say that," scolded the woman, "He's your dad. You didn't use to feel this way. Why do you hate him so much now?"_

"_I hate him _for you_," Ender quieted, his face still twisted up, "Me and Chloe are lucky. She never knew him and I don't remember him enough. But you do and I hate it. I hate him for hurting you. For doing this to us."_

_The woman shook her head, "I'm technically the one that left." _

"_But he's the one that didn't love us enough to find us." The boy regretted saying that when Ariadne looked down and swallowed. The fact just made him angry but it _hurt _her. And he didn't want that. He repeated, "I hate him."_

_Shaking her head again, disappointed in herself, she said, "That isn't what I wanted." Then she regarded what he walked in on and tried to put him at ease. "I was just feeling nostalgic. It happens. I'm fine."_

"_You're not. You try to be for me and Chloe but it's been eight years and you're still not fine. I just want you to be ok. I wish I could make it ok for you."_

_Ariadne pulled him into a hug, his back against her torso, her arms over his chest and her lips on the back of his head. Ender was already too tall and lanky for her to hold like she used to but she did it anyway, "You do, Booger Boy."_

"_You deserve to be _so_ happy." _

"_I am," insisted the Architect, "_You and Chloe_ are my happiness. The two of you are all I need. Sometimes I get sad…but because—" immediately she cut off, "Don't worry about me, Ender. You're the child. I'm the parent. I do the worrying. I do the regretting. That's not your job." _

_Ender hung his hands from her forearms, "Do you feel loved enough, mom?"_

_Ariadne laughed in that lighthearted way only she could pull off in a sad moment, "What's enough?" She squeezed him tighter, "My question is, do _you_?"_

_He nodded without hesitation. So she smiled into his hair, "Good. That's all that matters." She released him and stretched over to drag one of the backpacks by the zipper to them, "So are we using Ninja Turtles or Cookie Monster? I'm leaning towards the Turtles but that could be my personal childhood memories making me biased."_

_Ender laughed, "Or because Cookie Monster is practically falling apart at the seams…why did you keep this thing?"_

"_You wouldn't let me get rid of it," responded the woman, "You got so upset by the idea that you literally snuck into my office in the middle of the night, stole my stapler, and stapled the backpack to the inside of your closet."_

_He narrowed his eyes and feigned forgetfulness, "I vaguely remember that."_

"_You were such a little butt."_

_Ender twisted, "Wait. _That's _why we have the rule that you have to be eleven to use a stapler? Me? I thought it was because Chloe got into the trash and stapled all her dirty pull ups to Uncle Eames and Uncle Dom's jackets." _

"_No that was funny," Ariadne guffawed, "But either way, staples and tiny angry versions of me and your father …not a good idea." _

xxxxxxx

Chloe padded into the living area in her pajamas with Penny under her arm. Arthur was lost in his own rocked world, sitting on the couch and staring into space with one arm crossed over his torso and his other hand covering his mouth. He looked to be in deep, concentrated, thought. Chloe faked a cough to garner some attention. It worked; the man regarded her but he looked half there. His eyes glazed over. The little girl felt a strange shift between them but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly had changed. Once so comfortable with him, now she felt timid. Like when she first came to his house. "Goodnight Unc—" she caught herself. "Um…" It was pointless to call him that now with no character to uphold. But Chloe was skeptical about whether calling him dad or daddy would make him feel weird. So she settled for his name devoid of any title, "Arthur—" But that felt sort of weird too so she inadvertently turned it into, "Arthur-Dad."

It was too reminiscent of young Ender for Arthur to comprehend. A bit preoccupied, a bit caught between a daydream state and reality… Arthur replied, "Goodnight."

"I'll see you in the morning…" said the girl, plastering a pleasant smile on her face. She _really _wanted a hug but it was apparent Unc—ugh—Arthur-Dad was zoned out. He nodded absentmindedly like some sort of zombie and Chloe shuffled back to her room (a tad freaked out by that).

He didn't mean to shrug Chloe off (he actually hadn't realized he had) but he was stuck in his head. Like a truck in a mud pit. Things started popping back up into memory and making more sense. For instance: why the little girl reminded him so much of Ariadne. Now that he knew, there was no denying it. Chloe had his wife's coloring from skin, to eyes and hair (down to the texture of it). Her nose and eyebrow shape were more like Arthur's but her mouth and chin favored her mother. Her eyes were shaped big and beautiful like the Architect and though the color was closer to Arthur's tone of brown than Ariadne's, the vividness of the hue had to have been inherited from his wife. Arthur's had always been more muted while Ariadne's had been bright. Chloe's were definitely bright and soft yet striking at the same time. Just like her mother's. But the resemblance wasn't just in physical appearance, it was some of the things Chloe said. The things she liked to watch and do and eat, some of the faces she made, how artistic she was. Her wacky dress sense was exactly the type Ariadne would encourage. That whole time, he thought the things he recognized in Chloe were coincidence or maybe because her and Ariadne were both girls or maybe because he missed the Architect _so much_ he sought out similarities that weren't there…but no, it _was_ Ariadne's laugh he heard when Chloe giggled, it _was_ Ariadne's eyes he saw when the little girl cried. He kept telling himself: Ariadne would adore Chloe. They'd get along so well…well, of course. Because Ariadne raised her. And now he could see that in the little things like the way Chloe sipped at her hot chocolate or wiggled her toes as they watched tv. He could kick himself for not seeing it sooner. On his own.

Then he thought of all the times Chloe spoke about her home life—all the stories she told him about _her mom_—and he realized those were all glimpses into the family he lost. Those were stories about Ariadne and he didn't even know. He deciphered why her dad was rarely present in any of Chloe's recollections and when he was, it was fudged around. Because _Arthur_ was her dad…and he wasn't there. He was always 'working'. And that was the damn truth.

What about the nightmares she had where she cried for her daddy in her sleep? When Arthur came rushing to her and believed she was sleepily mistaking him for his brother, Chloe was sleepily calling for _him_—forgetting the show she was trying to put on in her exhaustion and fright and calling _him_ Daddy. Or the time Chloe argued with him about who's pancakes were better—Ariadne's or her mom's. He never understood why she thought it was _so funny_. Now it was plain. They were arguing over the same person just different recipes. What about the time way back when Chloe was in his office picking through old pictures? Arthur felt like she was invading his privacy but of course she didn't see it that way. She was simply looking at pictures she'd never seen of her mom and her older brother. And—well, no wonder Chloe laughed and said she'd love to be Ender's big sister. She probably thought Arthur was crazy (or couldn't count). Every littler sibling wants to know what it's like to boss the oldest around. Arthur would've loved to be Greg's big brother too.

Every little moment Arthur and Chloe shared was twice as special now. Every time Chloe fell asleep on him or held his hand or hugged his waist the past seven weeks…that was his daughter…_she was his and Ariadne's daughter. _He didn't even know Ariadne was pregnant… And Arthur would've _never _known. To think he considered sending Chloe back home when she showed up on his doorstep.

Then there was Ender: barely fourteen years old and he acted years beyond his age. How much had Arthur missed in his life? The boy was practically grown and he not so quietly resented Arthur for it. Overcome with too many revelations and feelings and notions at once, Arthur decided to check on Chloe to help settle his mind. Standing in the door and watching his daughter sleep had a true calming effect on the Point Man. His bridge with Ender was crumbling if not already completely destroyed and his rejection from Ariadne may have been imminent but his daughter loved him. If that was all the redemption he could claim, it might be enough.

xxxxxxx

_The Point Man called her first, unquestionably, only to find out her number was long disconnected. Then he called her parents' house in a desperate panic to beg for clues that they wouldn't give. He called Miles to see if he had any idea and the man steadfastly pretended not to. The most concrete information he could scrounge up came in the form of a less than comforting fight with his father. He ended up on the phone with his best friend, sounding like a mess. Sitting in their closet on Ariadne's empty side, "Arthur?"_

"_She's gone," he sputtered, scarcely able to breathe. Ariadne was his oxygen and she was nowhere to be found. He felt like he was suffocating. "And she took Ender with her." Paris was a plastic bag tightening over his head. He was going to pass out any moment._

"_Wait, Ariadne?" Dom had witnessed many of these false alarm calls before. Things always turned out, Ariadne normally came back. Dom knew of the arguments Arthur and Ariadne had been having lately every time Arthur trotted off to another part of the world. And he knew that every time his friend came home and Ariadne and Ender weren't there (whether they be at the local grocery store or back in the states visiting her family or something) Arthur panicked. "Aren't you home early? I'm sure she went to visit her parents or something and wasn't expecting you back yet…" _

_Arthur wished but this time was different. This time their home was completely void of her. She left nothing to come back to. And every person he called said the same phrases to him. 'I'm not sure, Arthur.' 'I'm sorry, Arthur, I can't say.' 'She's not here.' SHE WASN'T ANYWHERE. Her and their son disappeared off the face of the earth. "No. All of her things, all of Ender's things, they're gone." _

_The Point Man could hear the potent disbelief in his friend's voice. He stammered, "It's probably not—"_

"_No information on her or Ender is shown in our personal files on our personal computer. Her name's not on any of our joint accounts. There's nothing on the internet. Not a scrap. Not a receipt, not an old email, Ender's name isn't on his kindergarten roster. It's like he was never registered. Neither of them are on the insurance. I can't find their birth certificates. It's as if they never existed. They've been wiped from the clouds." _

_Dom was around when Arthur's parents and brother gave him the ultimatum and shut him out because of his choices. He had a creeping feeling something like that recurred. "You don't think—"_

_Arthur grunted but only to make his voice sound firmer than it had the potential to be, "I called my father. He confirmed that Ariadne contacted him. She's had her and Ender blacked out." _

"_Now, she could change her mind," Dom attempted to comfort. "She—maybe she's never gone this far but it doesn't mean she won't give you another chance. Maybe she just wanted you to realize she was serious." At Arthur's rapidly declining composure, his best friend rushed to help. To advise, "You've got to quit. You quit _right now_, Arthur. You do what you've got to do get out of dreamshare for good _today_. And then maybe—"_

_He clutched the piece of paper sitting by his leg, "No Cobb, you don't understand. It's too late. I'm too late. I used up one too many chances. She left a note saying I'm free…" the sniffs gave away that he'd begun to wear down and openly grieve. "I DON'T WANT TO BE FREE!" Arthur growled._

_A loud rush of air came from Dom's side and he was silent for a few seconds. Speechless. It couldn't be happening. Not to Arthur and Ariadne…He was in as much shock and in even _more_ denial than the Point Man. "No. No, Arthur, she loves you. She loves you more than anything. She'll understand. The two of you will make up and she'll—"_

"_She's not coming back to me." It was the first time and only time Cobb ever heard Arthur cry. Much less break down into devastated sobs, "They're gone…Oh God. What am I going to do, Cobb? They're gone." _

xxxxxxx

Arthur dropped Chloe off backstage by the halls leading to the dressing rooms for the girls. It was thinned out compared to dress rehearsal because they were about forty-five minutes before call-time for dancers. Katerina—one of the ballerinas on the professional company thought Chloe was the cutest thing and bonded with her while helping out with Chloe's solo; she offered to do Chloe's stage makeup and hair again so all Arthur need worry about was getting her to and from the theater and finding his seats. The instructors were all there bustling about checking props, getting resin for the pointe dancers and such. Some techies were working on the backdrop and re-testing the settings for the lighting. The lights in the house weren't even on yet, just the few on stage and then work lights backstage. Arthur laid her garment bag on a chair that sat idly back there and patted her head, "Ok, Tiny Talesco, I'll see you in a little bit."

"You're not staying?" Her eyebrows furrowed. He stayed all the other days. Granted he had to watch from the wings because he didn't have a ticket the other days but still…

The man shook his head despondently. He couldn't afford to sit around for a few hours with so much to do. Her leaving and going home was last minute (technically her return flight was planned for seven weeks but until last night he decided he'd let her stay a couple days longer if she wished) and he didn't want her to forget anything. She'd also need another suitcase to take her new toys and books with her. "I've got to go back and pack some of your things so you're ready for your flight tonight. Ok?" Something was wrong when she nodded. The movement was incredibly minute and her eyes glided to the floor with the saddest look he'd ever seen. He barely took two steps in the other direction before turning back to make sure she was alright and that was when he caught her crying. "Hey…" He walked back and soothed, "I'll be back by the time you finish warm up. I promise. And I'll bring a snack." But the little girl cried harder so he coaxed, "Chloe…what is it?" The droplets of tears on her eyelashes cut Arthur to core. He hated to see even an ounce of pain in her eyes. They were supposed to be sunny and wide and filled with delight.

The little girl furiously wiped at her cheek with her jacket sleeve, "Are you mad at me for lying to you?"

"No—" Arthur replied without delay and got down on his knees to be eye level with her. He took her shoulders and squared them towards him gently.

"I only lied because I didn't think you'd want me. You only knew and loved Ender and I was afraid I'd never measure up…" Clearly afraid of his answer. Afraid of his rejection, she hesitantly looked at him, "Do you wish I'd stayed your niece?"

"Of course not," his head shook, "I wouldn't have it any other way. I am so, _so happy_ to be the father of an amazing little girl like you." Feeling like he needed to do something with his hands, he smoothed the wispies of her hair down and repositioned a bobby pin. "Capiche?"

Chloe licked her lips and sucked all the tears up, "Capoche."

"Now," He tapped the bottom of her chin, "You're not fully dressed, where's that smile?" Chloe grinned at him, her tears already beginning to dry up. Satisfied that his daughter felt better, Arthur stood and instructed, "Go find Ms. Baublit or Katerina and get ready for warm up."

xxxxxxx

Admittedly, Arthur was in a melancholy state as he folded up Tiny Talesco's clothes and neatly packed them up. The outfit she wore over to the theatre (it's advised never to wear costumes to and from) was what he supposed she'd fly in. Once all her other articles of clothing were safely settled in the suitcase she brought with her, Arthur ignored the look of an empty closet. He hated those.

He stopped by a luggage store on the way back to the penthouse and picked up another colorful looking suitcase (heavy duty) for the other belongings he thought she might want to take. For instance, all her new dolls, her books, her iPad and charger. Some of it she may have wanted on her carry on like Penny and Emmett, her two favorite stuffed animals, so he left those out. The other things he didn't mind reopening and getting out for her to put in her backpack. Her camera was there too but he moved it to the table by the door so he would remember to take it back to the theatre with him. He was sure she'd want it for such a special occasion; in their rush that morning to get out of the penthouse she ran off and left it on her bed. After an hour, all that was left were her shoebox and her journal and he wasn't sure where she'd want those special personal items to go. She might want to work on her journal on the flight or on any layovers.

The little girl's journal was thick. Some of the edges uneven because of pictures poking out on the top or sides. The cover probably used to be a blank white hardcover but it had colorful doodles and glitter designs swirling all over it. Arthur was proud of her creativity. He smirked and aimlessly opened the cover to the first page where bright blue and purple bubble letters (that looked incredibly clean and proportionate for an eight year old) said 'This book belongs to Chloe Marie Talesco.' He swallowed when he saw a note written in the bottom corner of the page and recognized the handwriting as Ariadne's. Arthur found his fingers running over the script. Struggling to feel her touch through the ink. _Dear Chlobird, this is a journal to fill up with whatever makes you happiest but choose wisely because this book is very special. Be imaginative and creative and keep it close to you always. Remember the three D's: Doodle, Dream and Dance. Love you to the moon and back, Mommy. _

Curious (and eager for any glimpse into his family that he could get), Arthur turned another page. What did he find? At the top of the first page in careful curly letters Chloe had written 'My Daddy' and there was an old picture of Arthur from around the time of Inception (from before he and Ariadne started dating) cut out and pasted on the page with small hearts around it. At the bottom under his feet was his name: 'Arthur Nicholas Talesco'. The Nicholas part was below his first and last name with an arrow pointing to the middle. Most likely because she added it in when she found out what it was. The back of that page was a collage of old pictures of him she must've dug up at home. The next was a page that listed basic facts about him titled:

**What I know****:**

**Hair color: **Super black like Ender's.**  
>Eye color: <strong>Dark brown.**  
>Height: <strong>Six or seven feet I think. (Actually 5'8"!)  
><strong>Age: <strong>Won't tell me but probably old. Older than Mommy.  
><strong>Likes to wear fancy clothes.<br>Drinks a lot of coffee.  
>Watches the History channel A LOT.<br>Handsomer in person.**

The pages after that were the questions she asked him in the pizza parlor. Each question and answer had its own page complete with unique doodles or small objects taped or pasted in that pertained. For his favorite color, she traced over her writing in green marker and taped in part of a crayon label that read Hunter Green. For his favorite animal she drew a wolf barking his answer to the best of her abilities. For his favorite food she cut out a picture of spaghetti from a magazine and taped it in. In the bottom corner, there was tiny scrawl reading: 'For dinner' and then several hash marks presumably counting how many times they ate it.

Arthur flipped through the rest of the pages. There were ticket stubs, the receipt from M&M world, a napkin from where they ate pizza together, part of the to go box with the name of the cupcake place on it, all sorts of small mementos with short paragraphs about what they did that day and then all of the polaroids she'd taken of her and her dad after he gave her the camera. He passed one page with a simple heart in the middle, the date, and 'first time Daddy said he loved me'. If nothing else he'd already seen—if an entire scrapbook dedicated to getting to know and remember him—wasn't enough to melt his heart into a puddle, that page did it. After closing it, Arthur gently laid it back on her cleared desk as if it were something truly precious (because it was). But in the process of turning to leave, he not so gracefully knocked the shoebox to the ground and spilled its contents.

Out poured pictures and pictures of him, of he and Ariadne, of the two of them and Ender. When he turned the box over to put the contents back in, on top of the pile was one of his ties. One he hadn't been able to find since the day he came home to find Ariadne and Ender gone. Then the Point Man remembered the day he asked Chloe about the box and she replied that it was her mom's and to please not look inside. This box belonged to Ariadne… and she'd taken his tie with her and kept it as he'd kept her scarf. Gingerly, Arthur sifted through the pile like it was the treasure of a King, placing the objects back in the box after he studied them. He found their marriage license folded and creased at the edges. Recognized several anniversary, birthday and valentines cards he gave Ariadne. Postcards from when they were dating and on different jobs. One of the invitation's to their wedding reception and one of the invitations to Ender's baby shower. And then—

An unsent letter from the Architect addressed to him.

xxxxxxx 

Hope it's a nice change to see a few flashbacks from Ender's perspective. Get to see the other side of the separation. He's a complex boy nowadays. I know you guys are dying to see some present tense Ari/Art interaction. And its coming, I promise. But you know me…suspense. ;) Very soon though. Please, please, review!


	16. What

_Neverlandspirit: _Hey you. First again! I also think it's sweet Ender's a total defensive momma's boy. Shows how good a mom Ariadne is to have her son returning the favor. _Lauraa-x: _Sorry about the sadness =( this chapter has it coming as well. Mm…I think it's hard to tell. Actually, I don't think it would've been any different. I think Arthur would've thought another baby would pacify Ari enough to wait for him again and he would've still left. He would've left planning to be back after the allotted six months to be there for the birth and all but he still would've left. Thus she still would've. For them, it's the principle of the thing. Hahaha! Yes! The staplers! Well technically Ender can use one now it's just Chloe that can't. Annnnnd you're about to seeee. _Bookwormgirl: _I feel bad for everyone. I don't think love was ever the question between Arthur and Ariadne. She knows he loves his family its just—it's just complicated._ Kellouka2: _Hey Kelly! A/A is coming! I promise! We're closer and closer! Thanks for weighing in! _Random child: _HI! I'm so glad you gave this fic a shot and are liking it! Thank you. I try to keep the spelling and grammar and wording and stuff up to par (of course a few errors always slip through). I have a general idea planned out, yes. But it's a skeleton at the moment and my story tends to take over and write itself sometimes. I'm guesstimating twenty-something chapters? That's like the average for me so I'm going to go with that. We may hit 30, it depends. Thank you so much for reviewing, hope to hear from you again =)

P.S. Alright guys. This chap is an emotional doozy but it fills in a ton of blanks regarding A/A's split so bear with me.

**Chapter 16: What.**

It_ was _addressed to him so Arthur found it sensible to open the letter. (All the while refusing to think about her reluctance for him to read it as implied by the fact that it was unsent). She had kept it anyhow. She hadn't torn it up or thrown it away but saved it in the box. The corners of the envelope were scrunched and the adhesive keeping the flap closed was peeling, allowing for the flap to begin rolling up on one side. The Point used his thumb to tear across the top, trying to keep the envelope as much intact as possible. It wasn't a letter of great length but a single paragraph on a regular sheet of college ruled paper. The edges torn and hanging like bits of confetti as if she'd hastily written this in a notebook, ripped it out, and sealed it up. To his utmost dismay it wasn't recent. It wasn't an opening of communication between he and Ariadne with Chloe as the messenger. It was dated six years ago. A letter she decided not to send (obviously):

**Dear Arthur,**

**I've sat down and written this letter over and over but can never make myself finish. Maybe this one I'll finally give to Cobb to give to you. I don't know how to tell you this, especially now, but I'd feel better if you knew…I found out I was pregnant just before we separated. We have a daughter named Chloe. She was born October 19****th**** so she just turned two. She's beautiful. Smart for her age like Ender. She's got an incredible amount of energy; I think I'm going to enroll her in a ballet class or something to use it up. I'm not writing because I expect or need anything from you, I just thought it was the right thing to do to tell you. Please don't be angry with me. I'm sorry for not telling you back then but I didn't want you to feel trapped. I wanted you to be able to make your decision free of the mental obligation to another child. Ender's doing good in school. He's in first grade now. The three of us are doing fine and living well where we are. I hope everything is well for you too and work is steady. **

**Take care,  
>-A<strong>

She could've told him. That was six more years he could've had with his children. Chloe would've been so young, she wouldn't have remembered time without Daddy. Arthur could've been a part of Ender's entire elementary experience. Why did she feel the need to keep it from him? Did she really think he would be devastated by the thought of another child with her? He admitted he hadn't been the most attentive dad ever but it didn't mean he'd wish for them to have never existed. It didn't mean he didn't love or want his children. He'd lied. Yes. He'd gotten swept up in his work and broken the promise he made to quit dreamshare when they had kids. But he was working on it. Honest to God. He was slowly, slowly working his way out of the business. He was weaning himself off—granted he should've just confessed that to his wife instead of claiming jobs were urgent when they weren't.

Because that very last time, it_ actually_ happened to be urgent. His employers happened to pose a real threat to his family if he refused. They'd heard about Arthur's impending retirement and decided to use it to the best of their advantage like several companies had when Dom tried to leave the scene—claiming Arthur, Dom and Mal had botched an extraction for them (way back when they were first dabbling in the business as novices. Dom and Mal hadn't been dating very long then) and they wanted to be reimbursed by form of a makeup extraction. Or a ridiculous, ridiculous amount of money. One that would cut Arthur and Ariadne's joint savings by three quarters. Arthur thought it safer, easier and more practical to go and do the job. It was a double level in an un-militarized mind. He could be both Extractor and Point to keep Dom from having to get re-involved years after a successful retirement and reunion with his kids and keep them all from dipping into trust funds set aside for their respective families. The alternative to both the extraction and the payoff was client-retaliation and Arthur wasn't keen on gambling with that prospect. Arthur explained all of this to his wife in great detail…but to her, of course, this truthfully told scenario sounded no different than the hundreds of falsely told ones before it. The Point Man had cried wolf too many times for Ariadne to take the threat and importance of the job seriously. She was done with all of it. Done with being sat down and having the terms and risks and details of his extractions set out for her. Done with the gifts and the cards and the dinner reservations he bestowed to appease her. Done with listening to his spiels. Every time he talked that last week they were together, Ariadne tuned him out. Turned the tv up, put her earphones in, left the room or pulled the covers over her head. They slept with a pillow as a barrier between them and half the time he'd wake to find she'd moved to the guest room or the couch—not able to stand sharing a bed with him anymore. She'd take Ender to preschool in the morning and more often than not wouldn't come home again until she'd picked him up in the afternoon. Gone all day. Sometimes longer. Sometimes Ariadne and Ender wouldn't come back until after five or six, having already eaten dinner while they were out. Arthur wasn't so blind as to be oblivious to the insinuation of Ariadne's deep hurt. And he wasn't so cruel and selfish (especially when it came to his wife) as to blatantly continue on in the course that was causing her injury. But this time—this _one _godforsaken time—there wasn't anything he could do about it. And this _one damn time_ Ariadne was done believing in him. He left, so she left. Just as she insisted she would. The Point Man could be angry with her and hurt by her all he wanted but the fact of the matter remained: this misunderstanding was his own damn fault. If he hadn't waited until it mattered to tell the truth about his reasons for going, she would've believed him. She might've stayed.

Arthur _was going _to bring his dreamshare career to a halt after it. He was really going to try. In fact, after Ariadne and Ender left he _did_ quit. Cold turkey. After leaving Ariadne's parents' house with more questions than he'd gone to ask… he made a point of buying a permanent residence in Manhattan. Buying a car (he only ever rented because of his travels. This didn't count the car he and Ariadne bought and shared in Paris; that was technically hers). He grew plants on his balcony, invited the Cobbs and the Miles to come stay and see the roots he'd grown not only in his small garden but in this small part of the world. Wanted them to see him free of Somnacin's hold, to show them his PASIV locked in a safe in the back of his closet. Arthur wanted to introduce them to the neighbors he'd met and sometimes entertained. To know that the mailman knew his name. To see how free of dust his house was, how free of dust the millions of framed pictures of Ariadne and Ender were (they were everywhere you looked)—because he was here. He was home. All the time now. And he waited.

He waited a year. By the phone. Constantly checking his email. Desperately sifting through the mail each day for an envelope with her name in the sender's spot. His heart beating out of his chest every time there was a knock on the door. He waited for Ariadne to ask about him. Or for Cobb or the Professor to pass on how hard he was trying, how normal he was, how long he'd gone without working. Arthur waited for Ariadne to see his progress and come to him. And when she didn't, one day, he realized that he was going to have to go after _her_. There was no guarantee anyone mentioned him to her—they were probably afraid to or she shut down conversation about him before they could get a word in edgewise. Ariadne had to see him for herself. Had to hear it from him. He couldn't take the initiative and stay but he was damn well going to take the initiative and FIND HER. Going after his family was impossible though, what with nothing to go on. He struggled with different leads and dead ends for another two years. Spiraled into depression when it seemed hopeless. Arthur gave up and went through the heartbreak of losing them a second time. One that landed him in the hospital twice (from overdrinking and dehydration) and in jail thrice (from overdrinking and acting out in public). He even had his license revoked for a spell from a fender bender caused while under the influence. Dom came sans kids for a week to coax Arthur into getting a therapist and ended up accomplishing nothing but sitting on the floor of the closet with his best friend, trying to pry the beer bottles from one hand or Ariadne's blue scarf from the other (and getting swung at after every attempt). Arthur kept all of his clothes on one side of the closet (the left, because that was always his side) and the right (which was always hers) he left empty. And he slept in there every night. It was the only way he could get rest.

Cobb witnessed a lot of pain he wished he hadn't. He knew Ariadne couldn't have been doing too much better and tried to talk to her about it but her mother (and then aunt, and then cousin, and then Miles who ultimately forced Dom to comply) called and asked Dom not to correspond with Ariadne anymore unless it was strictly about the weather or James and Philippa. And that was that. So the man did what he could to pull Arthur out of it. He gathered every single picture of Arthur's wife and son and locked them in the drawers in Arthur's study along with Ariadne's scarf (which he'd had to confiscate while his friend was passed out). Every trace of them was hidden out of sight and before Cobb flew back home, he made Arthur promise to leave it that way. And the Point Man did. He found a way to cope without drinking. Without sleeping on the floor of the closet. He retreated back into the robot he'd been when he met her…_Her…_He quit saying or even thinking her name. And time stopped.

Arthur mentally lived in that parallel universe _she _always joked about.

He did go back to dreamshare. But the only reason he was currently in the business, why he was still working (but on a break) when Chloe showed up, was because of a deal he'd recently made. A wealthy owner of a chain of banks throughout the states had several moles in the company selling secrets to his rivals, giving them information they needed to steal clients away. This owner also had a brother working as a security guard in the main branch of the federal bureau. Mr. Murdoch sought Arthur out with a proposition. He needed to find these traitorous moles and Arthur needed to find his family. They made a deal, a legally drawn up contract type of deal. Arthur would head up a series of jobs to investigate and expose the moles after which Mr. Murdoch would have his brother pull some strings and turn Ariadne and Ender's black-out into more of a…light-grey-out, if you will. Either party could withdraw from the contract at any time. If the moles confessed, were given away or found and there was no more need for Arthur's services, Mr. Murdoch could terminate. And if Arthur's wife and kid manifested out of thin air one day to take him back and there was no need for Mr. Murdoch's services, Arthur could terminate. No hard feelings. No retaliation. The Point Man was 3 out of 5 moles close to his goal when the extraction sting in New York interrupted his progress and a little girl asked to stay with him during her ballet camp. Gradually, Chloe dragged him out of his cycle of nothingness. Made him remember. Made him hurt. But ultimately, made him hopeful again.

Then Ender showed up out of nowhere as a teenager who despised him and his niece ended up being the daughter he'd never known about and Arthur was fitfully and mercilessly dragged from his alternate reality into one where a full eight years had passed and he'd missed out on that much time in the lives of the three most important people in the world to him.

Could you imagine him reuniting with the Architect and children and Arthur having to say, 'Sorry honey, forgive me. But I still have two more extractions to complete before I quit…I promise…again' ?

That no-consequences, contract termination, clause would really come in handy about now. Or it'd at least give him a standing chance. He wouldn't be able to handle a repeat.

xxxxxxx

_The time to pick Ender up was nearing closer. Ariadne hadn't spoken to him all day. All week really. Ever since the night he started packing. She stood at the window above their sink and stared outside, completely ignored him as he went to put his lunch dishes in the dishwasher. "Will you please just talk to me?" No reply, no movement. Just a concentrated stare outside. Arthur sighed, "Ari, I leave tomorrow. This is our last day together as a family for a while; we need to talk about this. I don't want to leave on bad terms." _

_After that week of silence, her voice came as a surprise even if in monotone, "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to talk at all. I've said everything I need to about it and you've made up your mind. There's nothing else to discuss."_

_He briefly glanced out the window to see what she was intently glaring at but it was only a view of their mailbox and their neighbor's bike left unlocked on their doorstep across the street. Leaning his hip against the sink he went into his routine cajoling, "I recognize how upset you are, I understand how you're feeling and I hate it but I have to do this job. This client came out of the woodworks barking about some job Cobb and I botched way back when Mal was alive and we were all dabbling. He wants the debt paid and won't let up until it is. I don't want to risk him getting angry and coming after us. I have to make sure you and Ender are safe and then when I get back, I'll be done with dreamshare for good." _

_Ariadne turned her head towards him curiously, "I don't believe you. Why should I believe you? Your speech sounds the exact same as it always does. _Every _job is life or death; _every _job is your last, you promise. How is this time any different?"_

"_Because this time I mean it." He leaned forward to show the sincerity in his eyes, "Because this time, it's the truth."_

_One of her eyebrows rose, "So, you're saying all the other times were lies? They weren't urgent; you just wanted to get away." Her whole body turned now, her back leant against the sink and her arms folded over her chest indignantly, "Have you been lying to me all this time so I'd be fine with it and you could run off without a guilty conscience? You've been leaving us for no reason?"_

_He should've known to word it different since she was already on edge. He didn't have time to kick himself, though, just time to slip in a: "No," before she began venting. _

"_Four years Arthur. Ever since Ender could walk, you've been walking out on us. Why?" shrugged the woman, her hands lifting in the air, "Why do you have to go gallivanting across the globe three fourths of the year? Why do you have to consistently lie to me about it?" She pointed out the window like she was pointing to other people, "What, do you have another family somewhere you have to spend half the year with? Are you seeing someone else?"_

"_NO. God, no." Arthur was appalled the thought even ran through her mind. Disgusted even, and it showed by the contortion of his face, "Why would you think that?! Are you crazy?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe I am," Ariadne commented, pushing away from the sink with her hips and rounding the island, "If it's crazy that I'm not able to forgive you or trust you or love you anymore because of this…then I guess I'm fucking insane."_

_He followed her halfway around. The both of them stopped on either sides of the island. Like a stand-off. "You're not. And you do love me, Ariadne, that's the point." He made chopping gestures on the counter to emphasize each phrase, "You should be able to understand what I have to do, to trust what I'm promising, to forgive me _because_ you love me."_

_Ariadne blanched; the look she gave him showed so much disappointment. Her lips parted and she evenly stated, "But I don't anymore." As conversational as she'd state that the weather was nice outside or they needed more milk. Arthur automatically gripped the edge of the counter to keep from being blown back by the continuance of her statement, "I hate you. I look at you and I just hate you." _

_His blood ran cold. They'd never said that. Never been so upset with the other that 'hate' came up in a sentence. So he sped to her side to pull her into his arms and make things right. Make her take it back. "Ariadne…"_

"_Don't touch me, I swear to God." Ariadne hissed and swatted him off like a fly. Looking nauseated by the idea he would lay a hand on her. Arthur was recovering from disbelief when it looked like an idea struck her. She seized a garbage can, "You know what?" then dragged it behind her a little ways into their main living area. _

"_Sweetheart, don't be—" _

"_I'm tired of being miserable," the Architect remarked as she picked up a framed picture of them from one of the end tables and tossed it into the can. "I'm tired of fighting and crying and missing you," three more of them got thrown in and with a wince, he could hear the glass shatter in the bottom of the bin. "You want this job?" She asked, power walking across the room to the wall by their back door. Not realizing what she was walking away for, Arthur took the opportunity to carefully dive his hand into the trash and fish for the photos. "You can have it." He looked up and saw her carrying the portrait of them from their wedding day. He barely had time to dodge out of the way before she dumped it as well, "I'll save you the choice."_

_Wide-eyed and quite frankly annoyed, Arthur pulled it back out right away. One of the wooden edges was cracked and part of the frame hung limply. He marched after her with it in hand, "Ariadne."_

_The aforementioned turned around, snatched it out of his grip and threw it against their brick fireplace like a frisbee, "Fuck off!"_

"_ARIADNE!" Arthur reproached, seeing the glass that miraculously survived the first throw now entirely smashed. _

_The woman went for some of the pictures on the mantle—ones from their honeymoon, ones of them in the hospital with Ender, ones from Christmas at the Cobbs'—not only did Arthur want to keep her from ruining those frames and scratching those pictures too but she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, there was glass all over the floor and she was totally disregarding it in her haze of anger. Mostly, he didn't want her to cut her feet up, so when she lunged for more pictures, he grabbed her waist and carried her back across the room as she kicked. On their way she reached with her upper body and swiped the wedding portrait from the ground, angry the actual photo was still in-bloody-tact._

_Arthur put her down but didn't let her go because she would most definitely charge back over to the glass. She tried to pry the hands that were linked in front of her stomach apart but he'd always been stronger. Elbowing him knocked his breath out for a few seconds but he still hung on much to her chagrin, "Why are you even waiting?" she resolved to rip the picture she had, "Aren't you eager to go?" Into scraps. "Why don't you leave right now and spare me the sight of you a few hours early?!" Their keepsake reduced to streamers. And then not being able to cause any more damage in his safety-hold, she decided to stretch with her leg to kick the trash can over so she could pride herself with some more destruction. _

_Even the Point Man wasn't sure what upset him worse, her kicking the garbage bin and the metaphorical discard of their memories, her RUINING their wedding portrait, or her acting like she couldn't wait for him to leave even though that was the reason she was so distressed. Either way, he let go and growled in offense, his finger pointing at her, "Now wait a damn minute. I admit I haven't been around as much as I should have…but I _don't_ fit the role of a heartless, insensitive, husband. You've been acting like I'm all kinds of abusive shit ever since I brought this job up and I'll be DAMNED if I hear it one more ti—" _

_Ariadne yelled in full force, her finger returning the favor and pointing heatedly at him, "You don't like hearing it because it's the truth! You're a disgusting excuse for a husband and an even more pathetic excuse for a father! The only thing you're good at is being an egotistical, self righteous, anal, POINT MAN."_

_The Point Man shook his head in disbelief, "I don't deserve this."_

_Ariadne scoffed at him, "Deserve is a funny word…"_

"_Stop acting like that." Arthur warned through gritted teeth, "Stop treating me like I don't fucking put you above everything else—"_

_Squinting and fisting her hands, she seethed, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Maybe I'm in a parallel universe or maybe it's the BULLSHIT. You really think you can bully me into feeling whatever you want me to feel? You think you've got me in this trap—"_

"_You?!" Arthur condescendingly began laughing at her, "_YOU'RE _the one_ _in a trap?!"_

"_Yes!" Her face was flushed, her eyes wild, "_ME_, Arthur!" She shoved him backwards into the kitchen area, "You think you can do whatever the hell you want and I have to be here when you get back!" She pushed him again into one of the stools sitting in front of the island. "You think I actually will be!" The last time, instead of pushing, she wrenched her wedding ring off her finger and threw it at his chest, "Well, I won't! I'm done. We're done. I'M LEAVING YOU." _

_Ariadne was scaring him. Rightly so. But he took that fear and tried to convert it into rage like she was doing. He frantically scoured the floor for where her ring fell, then dove for it and chased her, "Don't say that. Don't you fucking even threaten something like that. Or I'll—I'll," _

_As she stomped away, she forcefully knocked one of the lamps off in the living room, "YOU'LL WHAT?! IF YOU CAN LEAVE, SO CAN I." _

"_Ariadne—" Arthur reached his breaking point—really, a place where only Ariadne could get him. He froze at the mouth of their hallway and closed his eyes, "Stop yelling."_

_Instead she overturned the small table in front of him and kept storming away, "IF YOU CAN RUIN OUR MARRIAGE, SO CAN I!" _

"_I mean it. Calm down. Please."_

"_GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND NEVER COME BACK."_

"_Stop it."_

"_I'VE NEVER HATED ANYONE SO MUCH IN MY LI—"_

_His emotions overtook his; her cruel words overwhelmed him. So he picked up the same table she overturned and he slammed and broke it against the hallway wall. Completely demolished it in one fell swoop. "STOP IT!" The surface split and the legs toppled and crunched. He stomped on the bulb of the lamp and shattered it in a burst of light, "STOP IT!" Now, Ariadne had never seen him that irate. The strength with which he broke the piece of furniture, the sound of the wood cracking, and his murderous tone startled (and truthfully petrified) Ariadne. She turned in the hallway to find him storming towards her at an inhuman speed with a look of contempt in his watery eyes and his fist raised menacingly in the air as he screeched, "YOU STOP IT!" She'd never in her life been scared of him until that moment. Ariadne stumbled back and pressed herself into the wall. Then, turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him tower over. The Point Man didn't touch her. Instead he took his wrath out on the drywall above her head. Beating it over and over, "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" Only when his fist felt bruised did he stop and notice he'd made a large hole in the wall. And only then did he feel the fear radiating from Ariadne and see her breathing tersely to hold back tears. It was then, that he backed away from his wife and pressed his back against the opposite side of the hallway. The inside of his hand was cut from the ring he was holding so tight. He pocketed it then inspected his hand, hissing, "Ow, Jesus Christ…" Arthur peeked up at the Architect and guilt washed all over him, "Don't look at me like that."_

"_What are you going to do now? Hit me?" Her hands were white from pressing into the wall so hard. She was afraid but she still challenged him, "Hit me, Arthur. Go ahead. What's a broken nose to a broken heart?"_

_Arthur came back towards her, his heart sinking when she shrunk away and scrunched her face as if he was going to punch her when all he wanted was to caress her cheek, "I would never hurt you. You know that." Both his hands brushed over her face lightly and tenderly, "No matter how angry I get, I won't ever split a hair on your head. I would _never_ hurt _you_."_

"_You already have," avoiding his eyes, she pulled his hands down._

"_I'm sorry," his head tilted. In severe contrast to earlier, his entire demeanor was soft, pliable, gentle. He apologized in whispers. His stance less rigid, his chin down, his eyes heavy lidded. "You know I wouldn't do it on purpose."_

_Ariadne whispered back, choking up, "Why the hell are we married—?"_

_And he interrupted, trying to wrap his arms around her reassuringly, compassionately, "—because we're in love with each other." She wouldn't let him, though. She still didn't want any part of him making contact with any part her. When her hands raised up between them, he backed away._

"_We shouldn't have gotten engaged that night. We should've broken up like I planned."_

_His hand instinctively flattened against the wall and ran down it, keeping his palm by her head since he couldn't cup her cheek. "No—"_

"_If you didn't want any of this, Arthur, you shouldn't have said you did. You shouldn't have promised it to me. You should've let me go."_

"_I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby…" Timidly, the man reached into his pocket and held her ring towards her in anxious askance, "Please try to understand."_

_The Architect looked at her ring, thought for a second. She made no moves to take it back or offer her hand for him to slip it back on. Instead, she studied him, "Why did we have Ender?" _

"_Because we wanted a baby."_

_With a furrow of her eyebrows, she analyzed his answer, "Because _we_ wanted one? Or because_ I_ wanted one and you just wanted to make me happy?" _

_Arthur opened his mouth to answer but faltered. It was because he wanted to make her happy. Simple as that. Ariadne wanted a baby, they were in love, they'd been blissfully married a successful year, things were great. He'd give her the world if she asked of course he'd give her a baby. He wanted a family with her without question anyway. He may not have been personally ready_ yet_ but he wasn't thinking about that; he was thinking about her as always. His hesitance answered for him and that's when Ariadne let go and allowed some water to stream down her cheeks. Arthur tried to make up for it, "Sweetheart, I love him. I do. I wouldn't change it for the world, now." It was the truth. He did love his son; that was only natural. "I love both of you unwaveringly, you know that."_

_Ariadne slid down the wall to sit on the floor, her knees tucked into her chest, "But love can't fix everything. It's just not enough anymore." Making Arthur crouch down and sit on the floor with her, cross legged, still holding out the symbol of their marriage. The man wanted to hold her, wanted to comfort and show his adoration by actions but she refused to allow him to touch her. So he watched helplessly as she fell to pieces. Pleaded. "Please, put your ring back on."_

"_There's no point."_

"_There is," he started to cry as well. Scooting as close as he could, leaning his forehead as close to hers as he could without her protest. "Please, just—I'll make it up to you; I'll move mountains to make it up to you when I get back. Put your ring on, Ari." He observed while she silently cried and stared at the wall behind him. "Baby…" Arthur just wanted this fight to be over. He just wanted her to feel ok again. To put on her ring and let him console her again. After a good interval, she checked her watch, sighed, and wiped at her face. Ariadne ducked underneath his arm and stepped over various things to get to their front door; She was going to be late to pick up their son. She closed the door as she left but Arthur trudged out behind her, worried because nothing had been settled. Ariadne must've sensed him behind her because she asked without turning, "Will you clean our mess up? I don't want Ender to come home to that."_

_Arthur nodded, "Of course," and opened her car door for her. "Ari?" He rolled her ring around in his pocket as she met his gaze. Both of their eyes held remorse and hurt and anxiety and this incredible planet-shattering longing to reverse time. He begged, "Say that you're still in with love me. Say you don't really hate me. Please?" _

_He guessed he deserved it when his wife looked at her steering wheel in thought and then back at him apologetically. She closed the door on her own, started up the engine and drove off._

Now most people would argue that it'd be out of character for Arthur to leave anyway. That under no circumstances—with Ariadne that deeply wounded and their marriage in such dire state—would Arthur not give in to her. That it would be so unlike him to put anything—let alone his own desires—above Ariadne and his child. And those arguing would be completely correct. Arthur would never do that. Yes, he subconsciously _wanted _to go off for that job. He _wanted_ to be a part of another operation…But was it worth losing Ariadne and Ender over? No. Absolutely not. That's why he decided he was going to bite the bullet and take the other route of payment.

Including 'interest' it'd take everything of Arthur's and then some. It'd sweep all accounts but part of their savings clean. Now, Ariadne had a part-time job at a firm and freelanced but it was more for her whimsy than it was out of necessity. Her and Arthur would both have to work (normal jobs) to live a semblance of the life they'd grown accustomed to…like any other regular joe. But that wasn't a devastating price to pay. Arthur would rather wake up on a cardboard box, under a bridge by the Seine, to Ariadne and Ender than to sleep in a king sized bed in a palace without them.

xxxxxxx

_Ariadne woke near midnight with a start. Since her and Ender got home that afternoon she locked herself in her and Arthur's bedroom to do some heavy thinking and meditating—using issues they discussed during their blow up. She didn't surface the rest of the day. Not for dinner, not for anything. That's why when she opened her eyes to the clock and saw how late it was, she panicked. It was way past Ender's bed time; she needed to get him to sleep or he'd have a miserable day. She crept out her door quietly to find her son's door cracked and his light off. No giggling child in sight. Her husband must've done it. It was on the couch with a single glass of scotch and his laptop (abandoned on the coffee table) that Ariadne found him. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before she thanked him for putting Ender to bed. He shrugged and nodded politely, saying it was getting late and the boy was falling asleep sitting up anyway. After acknowledging his reply, she padded to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving Arthur tense and hanging on the silence for retribution. _

_The sixth sense he had for Ariadne felt her behind him. This was a moment Arthur thought back to all the time. Her arms snaking over his chest, her leaning down and hugging him from behind over the back of the couch, "I'm sorry about earlier." He shouldn't have let her apologize. She was justified in being distraught. _

_Relief flooded through him at being allowed to touch her again. His hands automatically reached up and curled around her wrists to keep her from pulling back away, "Sweetheart, I'll stay. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever it'll take to make you love me again." _

_Arthur thought back to this moment a lot too: The tickling of her breath on his ear as she said the most wonderful phrase he would ever hear, "I didn't mean what I said; I still love you." He thanked the heavens for it, pressed her palms more firmly into his chest, turned to lean his temple into her forehead. Two thumbs rubbed soothingly below his collar bones, "I always will, no matter what." Except it felt wrong to hear her add, "But I think you should leave," while their cheeks were pressed together. _

"_What?" choked the man. Pulling her arms off so he could sit up and turn to face her._

_Ariadne swallowed but didn't dare drop eye contact, "If you want to go, I want you to go."_

_With crinkling brows and an objecting shake of the head, he revised her thought, "I _don't want _to do anything else to ruin our marriage."_

"_Oh, Arthur…" breathed the woman pityingly, leaning on the back of the couch. The Point Man had this weird feeling when she combed through his hair and pacifyingly kissed his cheek, "I think it's already ruined. What's a little more damage?"_

"_I don't want to hurt you anymore," he sputtered._

_Her sad smile made his eyes sting, "I know. But you can't help it."_

"_What will make you happy again? What can I do? What can I say?"_

_Ariadne shook her head defiantly, "_Do what you want._ It's always been about _my_ happiness…That's all you think about. You married me to make me happy, we stayed in Paris to make me happy, we had a baby to make me happy," She caught the hand he'd reached cup her face with and turned it over. Meditated on the blacks and blues painting his knuckles, before she kissed each one. "Dreaming is a part of you. Your dedication and passion for it is one of the reasons I first fell I love with you. I'm not going to force you to—or let you—give it up unless _you want_ to. Unless you're sick of it or bored with it. And I know you're not. I want _you _to be happy now. Don't worry about what _I_ want you to do this time. Do what you really feel in your gut you need to. It's your decision to make and I'll live with whatever you decide."_

_The Point Man still could've—_should've_—told her about his other option. He still could've stayed. But he thought right here that she was giving him permission to go…even encouraging it. Arthur thought Ariadne was giving in, compromising yet again for him to do this job. He thought that meant she was going to stay one more time if he left. So he made the worst decision of his life. He decided he would go ahead and leave—one last time. Because he thought she was ok with it. And she was…she was ok with sucking it up and bowing out gracefully if he chose to go. Which…Ariadne seemed to already know what he'd do, "I love you, Point Man, so much." She kissed up his jaw in a way he couldn't place back then but saw as melancholy now. "When you leave tomorrow, remember that." _

_As she stood to walk back to their room, he caught her hand lovingly. Kissed the palm. "Want me to wake you up when I go in the morning?" Sometimes she did. _

_Ariadne frowned. Hers was a quiet sadness however. A frail one unlike earlier where she had been loud and vindictive about it. She feigned a small smile and said, "It'll be easier for me this time if you don't." _

"_It'll be over before you know it," he appeased, placing her wedding ring into her palm. "And I'll come running back home." Her lips rubbed together and her eyes dropped as she nodded. Back then, he should've questioned why she didn't comment any further. Why she didn't put the ring back on. Why she simply closed her hand and dropped it to her side. "Well then, my darling Ariadne," Arthur stood, enveloped her in a warm hug and gave her an indulgent, syrupy kiss. "Goodnight and goodbye," Little did he know, that would be the last time he held Ariadne in his arms. That would be the last kiss he'd ever give her. The woman took his face in both her hands and studied him like she was memorizing every line and curve over again. "Goodnight and goodbye." Why had those been his last words to her? Why hadn't his last words been: 'I love you. I love you. I love you'? _

Ender was right: Ariadne gave him a way out that night and he took it with delight…

But now, having formed a relationship with Chloe and seeing Ender again—he had a direct line to his long lost family. Getting involved in another drawn out operation across the globe wasn't the way to win Ariadne and Ender's favor back. So, right away, without another minute to spare, Arthur called up his employer and withdrew. He'd learned his mistake.

The ties to that world were officially and permanently cut.

xxxxxxx

Arthur promised to bring Chloe a snack but it needed to be a healthy one so she'd have naturally boosted energy to complete the show. Something fresh from the market a block down from their building would be perfect. His hands were quite full when he walked in. Contrary to earlier, the theatre was packed, but that was to be expected half an hour before the showcase began (a one-time charity showcase performed by the American Ballet Theatre at that). He entered the house first and put some of his things in his chair then went around to the backstage area to find his daughter (The camp gave each child performer three backstage passes for immediate family members to get past security. They were mostly for use after the show besides one parent to help with quick changes and the like). The company and camp children were onstage behind the large closed curtain finishing up their center barre warm-up. Many of the parents he recognized from the lobby of the studio were standing on the edges watching. They finished with reverends and the dancers scattered for last minute makeup checks and to finish putting on costumes. Arthur observed as Katerina had Chloe show her pique turn combination for her solo, critique her arms, then fix her dress and give her a good luck hug. As Chloe left the stage, she spotted Arthur and happily skipped up to him. She twirled, "Do I look pretty?"

Arthur saw her in costume many times now but somehow looking at her and knowing she was his daughter made it different. She was the most adorable little creature he'd ever seen (even more so than he thought before). Arthur grinned, "Yes. Like a grown up ballerina." He then handed her a small brown bag, "I brought you a bowl of fruit, smart popcorn and a couple Gatorades. Save some for the intermissions too." Chloe nodded, looking in the bag eagerly. Arthur also reminded, "And make sure you put your jacket on before you eat so it doesn't get on your costumes. Capiche?"

"Capoche." Her warm up jacket and pants were in one of the dressing rooms. She'd get it and snack a little when she went back to get her ballet shoes. (Most of the dancers on flat warmed up barefoot with legwarmers).

"I have something for you afterwards," the man reached into his inside jacket pocket, "but I wanted to give you the card before you went on."

They moved to the side (out of everyone's way by the prop table). Chloe put her bag down and ripped open the envelope. The cover was light pink with a little cartoon girl holding a bunch of stars and a large 'Congrats'. Chloe opened it to find A LOT of writing:

**Dear Tiny Talesco,**

**The day you've trained for all summer is here and I know you're more than ready to take the stage by storm. You love dancing; let that shine through in the performance and you'll be the best little bluebird there ever was. You're fulfilling a dream tonight. That's an amazing accomplishment. But tomorrow morning, wake up and chase more of them. Persist. Remember that word? I never want you to give up or stop dreaming. Keep growing, keep reaching, keep learning and laughing. Keep being just like your mother—create, imagine, inspire. I see her in you in so many colorful and spectacular ways. And yet you are you and unique and as perfect as I could've imagined a daughter to be.**

**I wouldn't be able to cheer you on tonight if you hadn't knocked on my door seven weeks ago. Thank you for finding me. Thank you for letting me get to know you, for giving me a shot at a second chance even though I didn't know that's what it was until last night. I'm truly sorry we haven't known each other for the past eight years. I would give anything to go back and change that. But since I can't, I'm promising you that from now on I will be there if ever and whenever you want me to be. You are one of the three most important people in my life and heart and I am so, so, extremely proud and honored to call you my little girl. Break a leg (don't actually do that, that's a euphemism of the arts).**

**I Love You Forever,  
>Dad<strong>

Chloe's eyes were shining. Arthur called her his 'little girl' _and_ signed the card 'Dad'. Despite knowing how much he loved and missed her mother and brother and despite knowing that he loved her, since the truth came out she was afraid it would change things. Worried that he wouldn't accept her as his child. That maybe he'd rather she was his niece—his brother's kid—instead of his own. But the card put all her fears to rest. Chloe first hugged the card and then grinned up at Arthur and hugged his waist, "I love you, Daddy." You wouldn't believe how long she'd wanted to call him that.

The Point Man dropped down to her level to hug her back and let her squeeze his neck, "I love you too, Tiny." It was her second dream come true that day. For years, Chloe wished that one day she'd personally know who her father was. That one day she could hug him and hear him say he loved her knowing she was his…and it happened at last! When she thought it couldn't get any better, Arthur kissed her cheek. "Good luck."

Chloe spotted him over Arthur's shoulder first. Ender strolled in, joking, "Where's my little sister? All I see is a prima ballerina…" Arthur twisted on the balls of his feet to see his son. Ender was dressed incredibly distinguished; he certainly inherited Arthur's taste for formal wear. His black shoes were nice, polished to a shine, looked designer Italian but with a more rounded toe than Arthur usually wore. He had grey suit pants and the matching jacket which had black shawl lapels and cuff buttons. Completing the outfit was a bright white button up, black bowtie and black belt. Ender's hair was even gelled but not as severely as his father's. Arthur stood and pocketed his hands as Chloe trotted to her brother, "Hi Booger!" and the two shared a bear hug.

"Ahem," someone expectantly cleared their throat behind them and knocked on a nearby prop to call more attention to himself.

Chloe lit up and squealed with an abundance of excitement, "Uncle Eames! I can't believe you're here!"

The Forger chuckled, "Well I've never missed a performance, My Darlingest Darling, why would I miss this one?"

Arthur's eyes were blown wide.

What.

xxxxxxx

I'll just leave it at that.


	17. Sailing

Sorry about the long wait for this. Upside, I got a new laptop! Downside, I got sick. lol. This chapter has a lot of Ariadne and the kids in it albeit not in present time. YET. But I think you'll enjoy seeing her interaction with them after seeing Arthur's for so long.

Quick thanks! _neverlandspirit: _Thank you so, so much for your kind words. That's what I wanted you to get from that chapter and feel from Ariadne's side (and Arthur's a little). How much she loved and compromised for him. And how it's all so heartbreakingly unfair and unneccessary and misunderstood. _Bookwormgirl: _Sorry for making you cry...but if I'm honest, that's what I was going for. Thanks for reviewing! _Lauraa-x: _I know it's awful...but I LOVE that fight scene between them. I think a lot of your speculation about Eames will be mostly answered this chapter. _Guest: _Thank you! As someone who basically writes nothing but Inception stuff the fact that you believe I write Arthur and Ariadne well and do Chrisopher Nolan's characters justice is so humbling and amazing. So thanks SO MUCH. _Random child: _I do love plot twists...LOLOLOL. Thank you for reviewing again!

Alright guys I'm temporarily using a different word processing program until my stupid software for my new computer comes in. It doesn't have spell check! I've done my best and read through this like a bajillion times and had my niece read through it...please please bear with me, I've caught everything I could without that glorious squiggly red line that alerts me for me.

**Chapter 17: Sailing**

_Monday.__  
>Chloe: School 8:15-3:30, Ballet 4:00-5:30.<br>Ender: School 8:15-3:30, SGA 3:30-4:15, Swim 4:30-5:30_

_Chloe skipped out the school gates and there Mommy was: waiting in her usual spot on the bench by the shrubs, sketching something in her notebook. Maybe plans for a building, maybe a pretty flower. Chloe skidded to a stop and stilled with an evil grin. Waving at and letting her friends merrily skip past her. Quietly, she tiptoed along the crack of the sidewalk and crept up behind Ariadne. Once there she slid off her rucksack, cupped her hands over the woman's eyes and altered her voice, "Guess who?" It sounded like a cross between Blue from Blue's Clues and Walle from—well, Walle._

_"With that voice..." Ariadne pondered while moving her book from her lap, "Is it Stitch...?" Her arms crossed over her chest in front of her mock suspiciously._

_The little girl smothered her laughter in Ariadne's back then collected herself, "Non. C'est ton enfant favorite." _

_Mommy felt at the hands blocking her vision. She took one of the pinky fingers and squeezed it between her thumb and index, "Ender? You should be in SGA..." she scolded. Fakely. _

_"No..." Chloe turned Ariadne's head side-to-side, "You're favorite _girl _kid." The Architect hummed and bit her lip. Chloe melodically added, "I'll give you a clu-ue...she loves you more than anyone else."_

_Ariadne gasped in enlightment, "Oh! Then it has to be Philippa."_

_"_Mommy!" _complained the little girl. Upsettingly, pulling her hands from the woman's face. "I'm kidding!" The Architect chuckled and pulled the little girl into her lap, squeezing her back to her chest, "Je plaisante, je plaisante, je plaisante." _

_Chloe held Ariadne's arms around her neck, "You better be. Ce n'est pas drole."_

_The Architect kissed the child's head then reached down into her purse and pulled out a tupperware container, "I only bring snacks for my favorites. Chloe eagerly pulled off the top and grinned. Slid her finger through the substance and popped it in her mouth, "Mmm pretzels and hummus." _

_Ariadne smugly nodded, "The roasted pepper kind."_

_Chloe looked at her with raised eyebrows, "I _am _your favorite."_

_"Ok," Mommy lightly popped Chloe's leg and made her stand up by standing up herself, "I've got to get you to dance so I can come right back and get your brother." Obediently, the kid sealed her container and slung her rucksack back on as Ariadne slipped her book into her bag and her bag onto her shoulder. "Where's my dancebag?"_

_"Car," said the woman as she held out her hand for Chloe to take, "We're driving today."_

xxxxxxx

Arthur was floored. Wholly and utterly floored . There in front of him stood the Forger in his signature khakis, open-collared (navy and white plaid) button up and royal blue blazer. His fashion sense hadn't mellowed at all. Arthur had to wonder how old he looked to Eames, since the other man looked unmistakably changed to _him_. Eames had gotten fuller—not fatter but bulkier—with age. His dirty blonde goatee was trimmed with more care than Arthur ever remembered and his hair, while slightly receding at the corners of his crown, was neatly combed and hair sprayed instead of left randomly tussled. Eames looked weary and tired behind the front of his grin but Arthur supposed they all looked like that now. All of them were middle-aged retirees with hundreds of mental years catching up to them physically. Then, before the Point Man's very eyes, the British man he hadn't spoken to in over ten years swept Arthur's daughter up into huge hug...

And Chloe ecstatically hugged him back. Her arms constricted around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist like a baby panda on a bamboo tree. Eames made a growling sound as he pretended to squeeze her to death, "I've missed you, Little Bit. It's been unbearable!"

Chloe nodded, "I've missed you too!" After pulling back slightly, she sloppily kissed his cheek and said, "I had a tea party with Her Majesty the other day and we sorely missed your jokes."

"Oh, well pooey."

Arthur wondered how long 'Uncle' Eames had been in his children's lives. For just a few years? Or had he stepped in as soon Ariadne left? Was _Eames _the one she ran to? And how much was Eames a part of that Arthur missed out on? Was he their father figure? Were he and Ariadne—"Look at you." Arthur's litany of questions was interrupted by the other man's praise, "Like a princess from a story book. Don't take too much attention away from Aurora, now." Eames set her down as she flippantly agreed, "I'll try."

She immediately turned back to Ender and grabbed his hands, swinging them side to side happily, prompting him to ask, "Are you excited?"

"Yes!" Jumped the girl, then squinted, "A little nervous…"

"Nah…" the boy smirked, "_My_ little sister? Nervous? You'll be just fine."

It was only then that Eames' eyes wandered up from the children and coincidentally locked with Arthur's. The man reared back, blinking, and grasped at his pant pocket. The look of ghostly shock faded into thinly veiled contempt. Arthur merely swallowed and maintained eye contact whereas Eames cursorily glanced at the kids (who were chatting away) and then straightened as he returned Arthur's stare. "Arthur, what the bloody h—" he caught himself on the brink of the cuss and revised, "_heck_ are _you_ doing here?" Eames' smile was fake and his tone exaggerated in an attempt to sound light and pleasant. Like they were dear old bosom buddies who used to braid each other's hair and bake cookies together.

To be as (phonily) polite in front of the children as his former colleague was (and because he was already jealous despite not knowing the circumstances yet ), Arthur bared his gritted teeth as if they were a smile and offered a handshake, "I'd like to ask you the same thing. I wasn't expecting to run into _you_ at _my _daughter's performance."

"The surprise is quite mutual, I assure you,"chided the Englishman facetiously. Their hands did their utmost to crush the other man's during the brief exchange. "You're the last person I suspected to run into here…it being an event related to the family you gave up several years ago."

Arthur fought not to take offense and sneer (but he did). "Well, I couldn't miss it. Considering Chloe's been staying with me this whole time."

"You kidnapped her from the dorms?" narrowed the Forger's eyes in hushed accusation. "How did you find her?"

And in retort, Arthur leered, "You can't kidnap your own child. And actually _she_ found and came to _me_."

Eames looked over his shoulder incredulously at the girl which switched both kids' attention from their conversation about Chloe's trip to M&M World to the two men's interaction. Then he mocked, "How convenient."

"What can I say? She inherited my skill," provoked Arthur evenly (with a glint of smug superiority behind his eyes). The Point made sure to specifically include the word 'inherited'. Reminding Eames that Chloe was in fact an extension of himself. They both were.

"Oh, I agree that Ender and Chloe are intelligent little beings," nodded the Englishman nicely, "but they get that from their mother," before he snapped and snarled at his counterpart, "You know, the parent that's been _around_?"

Chloe appeared beside them. Tugged the scowl off of both men's faces by tugging on the Forger's jacket sleeve, "Uncle Eames, you and Daddy know each other?" No one could ignore the visible cringe that Eames let slip when she addressed the Point as 'Daddy'.

When both in question did nothing but look back at each other (disdainfully) and open their mouths to fumble for an answer, Ender stepped in and put his hands on her shoulders, "Of course. Same way Uncle Dom knows him." His two thumbs tapped Chloe's shoulder blade. That was normally the silent signal to tell her she needed to shut up because her foot was on its way to her mouth. They didn't need her accidentally blurting out more information than Arthur needed to know. She tended to do that when she asked questions because she asked them assuming everyone's knowledge on the subject matter equalled her own whether it did or not.

Chloe either didn't get the message (which was unlikely) or she didn't heed it. The girl tilted her head back to look up at her brother same as he tilted his forward to look down at her, "Does he know Poppy and Gammy Miles too?"

"Yes." His thumbs tapped slightly harder.

She pursed her lips, "What about Miss Reesie and Ms. Edith and Ms. Madi?" Arthur turned his head at the names of Ariadne's closest Parisian friends. Two of their names—Clarisse and Madeleine—lovingly shortened. Even _they _had been in the kids' lives enough that they had nicknames and came up easily in conversation. Wait. _They_ were in the children's lives. The kids referred to the Miles' like actual grandparents. Eames was a recurring presence (London was only a train ride away). And both of them spoke fluent French...Did Ariadne stay in France? Had she only moved neighborhoods while this whole time Arthur was scouring the globe?

Ender recognized the tells of thought process. His thumbs pressed as he squeezed Chloe's shoulders, "Yeah._ Everyone_ _but us_ knew him," commented the boy, irritated, throwing a critical glance at their father. Trying to distract him more than make a dig at him (that was just a bonus).

It was actually the first time he'd acknowledged Arthur since he arrived at the theater and Arthur could feel the satisfaction radiating off of Eames. Especially when Chloe furrowed her eyebrows and trailed off, "Oh…"  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_Tuesday__.  
>Chloe: School 8:15-3:30, SGA 3:30-4:00, Ballet 4:30-6:00<br>Ender: School 8:15-3:30, Tae Kwon Do 5:15-6:15._

_Every Tuesday when Ender got out, Mom was across the street at the park. Sometimes she was working on designs on her laptop, sometimes she was drawing, sometimes she was feeding the birds or dozing off in the afternoon sun. Tuesdays were Chloe's day to stay late for Student Government so they had half an hour of one on one quality time. Now, Ender adored his little sister dearly and he wouldn't trade their three musketeers group for anything but he enjoyed having time with just he and his mom. Like the old days in his childhood when they were Super Momma and Booger Boy. Sometimes they claimed a bench, sometimes she'd have a blanket on the grass but he always joined her, shared his leftovers from his lunch and did his homework. "How was school?" asked Ariadne when Ender garnered her attention by dropping his bag and then his bottom on the grass. Her laptop screen was tilted low and the entire machine set aside while he got settled. Ender loved that. No matter what kind of work she was in the middle of, no matter when the deadline was or how important the project, she always put in effort to show him that he was more important to her than her occupation was. Momma stopped everything and made time to connect with him and his little sister._

_"Same as always," he grimaced, pulling his legs to criss-cross under him and digging through his bag for his social studies book and assignment folder. "Algebra is too easy, social studies is too tedious and Monsieur Paquet makes me want to claw my brain out."_

_Ariadne smirked and took a sip from a water bottle she'd sat behind her, "I told you you'd be bored in there."_

_"I knew it'd be an easy A," defended the boy. A half drunk carton of apple juice emerged from his bag and was unscrewed so he could take a couple gulps._

_"Laziness..." she teased, "You're speaking like a true Frenchman."_

_He pointed the tip of his bottle at her and corrected, "Un vrai Bourgeois, Maman."_

_She agreed. Her side of the family had a tendency to be too laid back. Still though, they didn't cheat and it was almost cheating for Ender to take a course in French when their entire family was fluent. The schools made it mandatory for children to take French in Kindergarten and all through Primary. But when they reached Secondary they were allowed to pick another language that interested them. "You had the option this year; You should've taken Spanish or Latin."_

_"I concur," he clicked his tongue then reasoned, "I'll do Latin next term."_

_"You need to. It'd be a good challenge," his mother endorsed the decision. Ender had laid on his back and propped his head up on her knee. He opened a textbook, leant it against his bent up legs, and bit off the cap of a highlighter. She peered at the page and saw a diagram of the lungs. "What'cha studying?"_

_A thick orange line highlighted an emboldened sentence then the marker was dropped to his side and a pencil was eagerly snatched up so he could write small notes in the margin of his workbook. "Respiratory and circulatory systems. We have a unit test tomorrow."_

_Now that the boy was focused on something of his own, Ariadne justified putting her computer back on her lap and resuming work on her specs. A few more highlighter strokes and mouse clicks later, Ender inquired, "How about you? How's work?" He sat up and dug into his bag again. _

_"Here." Ender twisted at her voice and saw her holding out some post-it tabs. He thanked her and returned to his previous position while listening to her response. "Same as always. The requests are too easy, the specifications are too tedious and our intern Mike makes me want to claw my brain out." They looked at each other and snickered at her copy of Ender's school answer. Ender scribbled a key word on the top of the tab and turned the page. Ariadne virtually expanded the square footage of a staircase and fixed a doorway on her design program, "No, to be serious. Kyle is imcompetent. I'm having to hold his hand through everything and he makes more mistakes than progress."_

_"Why'd they hire him?" asked her son dubiously._

_"Well, he doesn't get paid. Thank goodness," she emphatically pressed a key. "But it's politics. His older brother has been a contractor with the firm for ten years so..."_

_"So _you_ get stuck with an idiot," Ender contorts his head to look at her with a scowl, "Je desole."_

xxxxxxx

Chloe recovered quickly and thankfully didn't take Ender's snide remark too much to heart. Her innocence overlooked the tension between the other three. She smiled winningly up at her father and uncle, "So you're friends. I bet it's really nice to see each other again!"

Neither of them wanted to ruin Chloe's last show or put a damper on her excitement by letting their distaste for each other get in the way. She evidently thought it was so cool that they used to be buddies and they didn't want to shut her down. The Forger cleverly answered, "Not as nice as seeing you again, love."

"It's a quarter 'til," interrupted Ender with a point to his watch, "we should go back to our seats."

"Ah very well then." The Englishman fished out his ticket while Ender straightened his tie. Arthur guessed he should go back to his seat as well. He wasn't looking forward to it because they were most likely sitting next to each other. Every child was allotted up to four free comp tickets and the block of seats were reserved together according to normal procedure. Chloe protested as her British 'Uncle' and big brother turned to go, "Wait, my good luck sugar!" Eames and Ender snickered as they pivoted back, clearly their departure was a form of teasing and they had no intent to leave without giving her well wishes. Arthur felt like a stranger watching through a window. Standing back and watching as his children did a special pinky-finger handshake. As Ender pecked her forehead twice in a row (saying it was for Mom) then pretended to ruffle her hair to get a reaction. As Eames crouched down so he and Chloe could kiss each other's cheeks and double five. A process obviously viewed as tradition between the three (and when Ari was there, four) of them.

Arthur felt embarrassed after they'd gone, not having a ritual of his own with her. His hands fidgeted inside his pockets, toying with the piece of paper there. (The small note of Ariadne's he'd been carrying around as his totem was replaced by the letter he'd just read back at the penthouse). "Daddy?" Two short arms circled his waist and the sweetest face smiled hopefully up at him, "Will you give me some good luck sugar too?"

"Good luck," He bent in half to peck the top of her head, then her forehead, then the tip of her nose, "I'll check on you at intermission."

When Arthur got to his seat, Eames' and Ender's were adjacent as he'd expected. The Point saved his place earlier by laying his program on the seat and placing the bouquet of flowers and small gift he'd gotten Chloe under it. Eames was in the seat directly next to it and Ender on the other side—as far from Arthur as possible. Nevertheless, Arthur had to scoot past him to get to his spot. On his way, he smiled agreeably and gave his son a respectful nod as the boy stood to make room for him to pass. After sitting, Arthur tried to make a pleasant connection. To start conversation using a topic he assumed was of mutual interest. "You look very nice, Ender," he leaned forward and spoke across Eames.

Having been taught manners were as important as promises, the boy was forced to respond, "Thank you."

"Are those Italian?" he pointed to Ender's feet. He had to raise his volume because the orchestra had started playing music to set the mood as the audience filed in.

The boy stared back blankly. Arthur thought he wasn't going to answer until he stiffly nodded and said, "Fratelli Rosetti."

The Point's face lit up, "We have the same taste. My shoes are Rosetti as well. I have several pairs of his. He's one of my favorites."

Eames piped up, "Do you have a collection of Vera Wang dresses you want to squeal over as well?" Arthur gave him a dirty look.

"Mom got them for me; I don't particularly care for Rosetti," shrugged Ender, staring at the stage determinedly, "I'm more of an Alexander McQueen guy."

Arthur could work with that. Ender wasn't completely ignoring him or cutting him off. He was giving him answers, albeit short, curt ones. The Point nodded, "I have a couple pairs of his as well." Ender opened his program and sifted through the pages in an endeavor to get Arthur to stop talking to him but Arthur pursued. "Are those new?"

Ender sighed and leant back in his chair, his foot moving to rest on his knee but his eyes not moving to meet his father's, "No. I just take very good care of them."

"I like to polish the pairs I frequent once a week. It's amazing how it preserves the quali—"

The boy's blue eyes unexpectedly darted to Arthur's. All Arthur could describe it as was 'icy'. Like the type that sank the Titanic. "Wow. Imagine if you cared about people as much as you care about shoes." Eames hiccupped a laugh but Ender didn't intend that remark to be funny at all.

Arthur tilted his head and faced his palm towards the ceiling, "I'm just trying to make conversation, Ender."

"Then ask the lady next to you if her heels are Steve Madden."

Arthur took the symbolic hit and sat back up in his seat. Rolling his eyes at Eames' smirk. Why on earth did he have to sit next to _him _of all people for the next three hours? And why did Eames think he had some sort of upper hand here? Arthur was the ultimate; he was Ender's _actual _father. Arthur was the one who helped conceive him. Arthur was the one there for his birth. Arthur helped name him. Arthur saw and held and loved Ender first. They were a part of each other no matter how ornery his son wanted to act. Eames may have Ender's favor presently but it was still Arthur's blood coursing through the boy's veins and his family's genes making up half his cells. It was still Arthur's ears and face shape and jet black hair staring back at the two older men. Ender was Arthur's mini-me as much as Chloe was Ariadne's.  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_Wednesday  
><em>_Chloe: School 8:15-3:30  
>Ender: School 8:15-3:30, Swim 4:30-6:30<em>

_Since school was located extremely close to their house and both Talesco children got out at three-thirty for the remainder of the week, they usually went home for half an hour to forty-five minutes. This time was used to get a headstart on homework and so Ender could change into his swimgear and grab a snack if he needed or wanted one. Ender trotted down the stairs into the kitchen and hopped up on one of the barstools. His mom was bustling about the kitchen, setting out potatoes and salt. His sister was copying a list of her vocabulary words from the textbook onto colored notecards. In between he and Chloe's spots at the counter was a medium-sized, ceramic, blue plate covered in sliced apples. They each had their own mini cup of peanut butter to dip them in and their own glass of ice-cold peach tea. The boy opened his math workbook and powered on his calculator, "Smells good. What's for dinner?"_

_"I've got barbecue chicken slow-cooking in the crockpot," replied the mother with her back turned. She'd lifted the lid off said pot and her 'secret ingredient' inside._

_The boy was stoked. Barbeque chicken was one of his favorite recipes, "YES!" He punched the air then bit off a piece of apple and entered an equation._

_Chloe placed a finished notecard in the pile and looked up, "And baked potatoes?"_

_Ariadne nodded and turned, "I was thinking that or cheesy mash if we have enough gouda left. What do you two want?"_

_"Cheesy mash," both said in unison. Ender with an even tone of certainty and his eyes focused on the graph paper he was plugging numbers into. Chloe with wide, pleading, eyes trained on her mommy and her pencil slammed down as a result of her abrupt and passionate request. _

_Ariadne opened the fridge to survey, "Hmm..." she opened a drawer or two and checked the compartment at the top of one of the doors. Chloe watched on the edge of her seat (stool), invested in the fate of their meal. Whereas Ender momentarily disregarded Ariadne's fridge-frisk to figure out his equation. Ariadne closed the the door and gave her verdict, "Ok, we need cheese." She addressed the child that was still actively listening, "I was going to wait until you two were at Tae tomorrow to pick up groceries but you and I can go while Booger's at swim, yeah?"_

_The little girl was up for anything, "Yup." With that settled she went back to making notecards._

_The woman left the kitchen for a minute then came back with her notebook and a pen. A few scribbles signified the start of a list: Milk, soymilk (for Ender), gouda cheese, spaghetti sauce, eggs, avocados, watermelon for lunches. "Any requests?"_

_"Can we get some pringle crisps? The pizza kind?" Ender proposed. To which Chloe added, "And salt and vinegar?" She liked all that sour stuff like olives and pickles and vinegar. Ender liked those things in moderation...when the flavors blended into a meal or something but certainly not on their own or with a fork out of the jar. That's why he grimaced to himself over his sister's crisp choice._

_"And some of that Naked blueberry juice," the little girl reminded. Ender and Ariadne both glanced at each other with amused smirks. Ariadne had brought a small bottle of it home from the firm one day a month prior. Someone left it unopened in the fridge and for a day or so and that made it free game. She was dying of thirst, forgot her water bottle and didnt have time to grab a drink before having to rush to the school and then get everyone to their activities. So Ariadne took it. Chloe saw it in the car and asked if she could taste it and the rest was history. Ariadne bought one of the large juice cartons of it for the three of them. Ender and Ari liked the juice too but Chloe drank it like water. The woman had to limit Chloe to one glass in the morning per day, afraid she'd get sores in her mouth from all the regular fruit and then overuse of fruit juice on top of it. _

_With Ariadne's attention conveniently on him anyway, he suggested, "And that yogurt you got last time, please."_

_Ariadne agreed and dutifully wrote it down. "What do you say we have a big cookout when Uncle Eames gets back on Valentine's Day? Invite some families from dance and TKD? It's on a Sunday this year we could do it during the day. Get the fire pit going, cook some s'mores."_

_"Yeah!" Chloe exclaimed over Ender's, "That'd be fun."_

_"Ok, I'll pick up a bunch of steaks too."_

_Randomly, Chloe looked at her brother, "You never said how your science test went." Ariadne started but continued to write, "Oh yeah, how'd you do?"_

_"I feel pretty good about it," he mumbled, retreating back to his math books. "I fudged two of the short answers because those questions were _definitely _not in the study guide."_

xxxxxxx

Chloe was radiant onstage. Of course, Arthur was biased but she stood out amongst her class as they leapt and sashayed around Baby Aurora's grand bassinet. It was very clear that Chloe loved to be up there performing. The bright lights and large auditorium filled to the brim with theatre-goers didn't phase her in the slightest. Arthur was so immensely proud that he wouldn't look away from her for a second . Not when she was posed off to the side, not when the principal dancers were taking their turns center stage. Only after the grand prologue scene was over and she skitted off the stage while everyone applauded did Arthur let his mind wander to the man by his side. The one he swore was purposely trying to clap louder than him.

Arthur and Eames had never been competitive. Some people would argue against that but it was true. They teased and prodded and condescended each other but under that they had a genuine respect. There was no reason for contention, they each had their own distinct talents and were hailed as the best in their respective fields of dreamshare. Eames poked fun and Arthur patronized but at the end of the day if you asked them who their closest friends were, they'd both put each other in the top five. Maybe because relationships in dreamshare (much less ones you could trust) came far and few between...but still. This didnt feel like old times however. It felt every bit as much of a rivalry as it could. For years, Eames had been one of the ones pushing the Point Man towards the Architect like a kid playing with two dolls and saying 'Now kiss'. The Forger was one of if not their biggest supporter. He practically celebrated more than they did when they announced they were officially dating to the team. He was in their wedding. He sent them anniversary cards every year for heaven's sake. You know when you have two friends who (after a long time coming) become a couple? And since you've been secretly pulling for it forever, you think they're the cutest thing? That was Ariadne and Arthur to Eames. (And...Dom and Yusuf and the Miles' and about ten other colleagues they routinely worked with).

For those reasons, Arthur suspected there was something presently going on between Eames and Ariadne. Because all of a sudden Eames was acting threatened. He was bitter and resentful of Arthur and it wasn't coming from a place of mere protectiveness and skepticism. Natalie, Shannon, Gerard, even Miles and his wife showed their disappointment in Arthur; he was used to receiving actions fueled by that in regards to Ariadne. But Eames didn't appear disappointed in Arthur...if anything he appeared gratified by Arthur's mistakes. He struck Arthur as being _proud _of Ender when the boy slighted his father. The Forger was on the verge of encouragement when Ender showed disfavor. The Englishman acted as if Arthur was intruding on _his _turf by connecting with Chloe (and endeavoring to _re_-connect with Andrew). Those feelings could only be manifested through jealousy. Could only come about if Eames felt as though they belonged to _him. _Arthur wasn't being treated as an old friend, he was being treated as 'the other man'. This unsettled him greatly.

At the first intermission, Eames clapped Ender's back and the two trotted off—laughing about some inside joke and chatting about the passing of time in comparision with Chloe's other performances as they went to get popcorn. Arthur had to bite his cheek and put up an oblivious front until he was sure they were in line at the concession stand. The man took some much needed comfort in visiting his daughter backstage. For as soon as she caught sight of him, she flitted across the stage (the curtain was closed) and jumped up into his arms. She hadn't changed into her bluebird costume yet, she had another act and a half to do so, but her hair was already in a bun and her tiara clipped in place, "Did I do good?"

"Tremendous," praised the man in a sing-song voice as he swayed in a grandiose manner. Her dangling legs swung back and forth with his movement. "Stupendous."

"Better than yesterday?"

Arthur gave her a winning grin, "Better than ever," then put her down. The child took one of his hands in both of hers and played with one of his cuff links for a moment. Arthur was content to live in the casual affection, feeling starved for it due to sitting by an ever distant son. He observed while she studied his microscopic engraved initials and twisted the link in circles. Smiled fondly at her intrinsic curiosity of everything. Then Chloe raised her gaze (and eyebrows) at him eagerly, "You think Mommy would be proud if she was here?"

The man couldn't help it. He had to pinch her cute, angelic-looking, cheek. "I know she would." Chloe beamed and turned her head away. Ducked her chin to her chest to avoid another pinch. His index and thumb continued the motion. Made snaps like a crab and pretended to chase her face, making her giggle, "Dad, stop! _Daddy!_" she swatted his hand and turned so her back was too him and covered her head. Giggles turned to outright laughter when he pulled her into his clutches and hugged her from behind, "In fact, she'd probably be _so_ impressed, she'd drop dead."

Chloe went completely still, "_What_?"

The cheeriness and humor was sucked out of the air at the alarmed yet heartbroken tone of her voice. Arthur immediately sobered and twisted her back around by her shoulders (since she was frozen in place). The girl's big eyes were filled with concern but more than that filled with remorse. Like she believed her good dancing might actually kill her mother. She looked down at her herself in horror. Arthur explained, "It's just an expression, Sweetheart, don't worry."

"Ohhhhh..." the tension fled from her miniature body. Her head shook, "Thank goodness."

The backstage lights flickered and the signal that intermission was coming to an end sounded. "Better go back to my seat. I won't be back again until it's all over ok?" Chloe ok'ed. Arthur made sure to ask if she had plenty of snacks and drinks or needed more but she admitted she hadn't even touched what he'd brought save for a water bottle. He reminded her she needed to wear her jacket over her costume if she chose to eat (especially the cheetos) and that even though she wasn't dancing again until halfway through Act 3, she needed to be ready by the second intermission. Of course she was aware but Arthur also slipped in a note about paying close attention and warming up when her part got close instead of playing with the other girls. With a dress rehearsal and two shows under her belt, she'd gotten the timing down pat. Plus she had her instructors and some of the older dancers keeping up with her backstage. It was Arthur's nature to check and double-check because since he couldn't be back there with her, he felt antsy. Chloe just nodded along and reassured him she'd be very punctual. Just enjoy the show. He hesitated after their high five. Uncharacteristically ignoring the second signal that urged people back to their seats.

After learning the ins and outs of Arthur's personality, Chloe was able to pick up when the man was and wasn't comfortable and he looked very reluctant to leave the comforts of backstage. She had a feeling her brother may be the cause. So Chloe asked, "Dad, is Ender being nice enough to you?"

Arthur blanched but then admitted with a forecefully nonchalant shrug, "He's still a little angry with me."

"I'm sorry," the girl lovingly patted his arm, "He's actually hardly ever crabby but when he is, he's _annoying_." That was to be expected considering who he came from. Both Arthur and Ariadne were stubborn as mules. When Arthur was upset with something he retreated into himself. He was a natural when it came to the silent treatment. Ariadne on the other hand was vocal about it. Sardonic. Ender inherited both ends of the spectrum. He passively pretended Arthur didn't exist until Arthur gave him an opportunity to throw a jab at him, then he was anything but tightlipped.

"It's alright; I understand where it's coming from."

Chloe smoothed everything over by reasurring, "He doesn't remember how great you are. But he will...he probably just needs time to warm up to you again."

Arthur nodded, "I hope so."

While pushing him towards the hallway so he wouldn't miss the start of act two, she slapped his back, "Hang in there, pops."

He laughed, almost tripping over his feet because of her pushing, "I will."

xxxxxxx

_Thursday  
><em>_Chloe: School 8:15-3:30, Tae Kwon Do 4:00-5:00  
>Ender: School 8:15-3:30, Tae Kwon Do 5:00-6:00<em>

_Thursdays were the easiest days for Ariadne because not only did both her children get out of school at the same time but they were both going to the same place for their extra curricular activities. They headed straight for TKD after school and spent all afternoon there. Their classes were different times but they used the hour their sibling was in class to do homework. Ariadne usually stayed and worked on her laptop or conversed with other parents but when she needed to run errands it was nice to know both Ender and Chloe were in the same place when pick-up time came. Ari picked Chloe up at Primary first to give Ender a few extra minutes to chill with his friends. Together they walked a block down to the Secondary school and met Ender at the gate. All three of them walked across the street to the car (the road directly in front of the school was a main and busy one and they asked parents not to pick up by car and clog up the roads). _

_Ender slid into the passenger side with his backpack between his feet and Chloe bounded into the back. She happily opened the cupholder before she even closed the door or buckled her seatbelt. Thursdays were especially great for Ender and Chloe too because it was tradition to go get smoothies on their way to TKD. They looked forward to it all day at school. "Ok, how were our days?" asked Ariadne backing out of her parking space to the tune of seatbelt clicks. The boy unsheathed a packet a of paper from the folder, "Feast your eyes on this_ _puppy!"_

_Ariadne glimpsed before turning out onto the road and Chloe took the paper from his hands so she could read it out loud, "ONE HUNDRED!" The girls cheered for the boy. Ender dipped his head and held his palms to the sky (or to the roof of the car) while Chloe swayed with the paper in the back seat and Ariadne melodramtically crooned, "Heeeee is the champion my frie-ends..."_

_"BUM, BUM," chimed the little girl._

_"And heeeeee'll keep on fi-EE-ghtin 'til the end..." The car rounded the corner. One of Ariadne's hands on the steering wheel, one on her heart._

_"BUM BUM BUM," went Chloe._

_Ender fist-pumped the air to the synchronised beat. His eyes closed while his mom and sister wailed, "He is the champion, HEEE is the CHAMPION. No time for losers, cause he is the champion..."_

_"Doo-doo-BUM BUM," the youngest broke off to simulate the guitar chords. Then Ender made the 'i love you' signs with both his hands and sang, "OF THE WOOORLD." _

_Ariadne smiled then seriously congratulated him, "Good job, Sweetie. I'm proud of you."_

_"Thanks," he reached into the back seat and took the test back from his sister, grinning encouragingly at her, "Maybe Chlo will get a hundred back on her vocab quiz tomorrow."_

_Chloe put her hands on the sides of both front seats and leaned forward, "J'espere!" She then met Mommy's eyes in the rearview and the Architect avouched, "As long as you did your very best, you're a champion too." Chloe relaxed into her seat and smiled lazily. Her brother inquired, "Besides the quiz, anything else happen?"_

_She played with her shirt idly, "Eh...my team lost in kickball cause Tanner got hit in the face and had to go to the nurse's." _

_Ender scowled, "Tanner's that kid who said you stunk at P.E. right? Little bully."_

_"Yeah. He said I have bad aim and should stick to playing barbies."_

_At that, Ender twisted in his seat and grinned mischievously at her, "Are you the kid that kicked him?"_

_Chloe put on a feigned look of innocence and shrugged slowly, "I was aiming for the ball..." She grinned evilly, "Guess I missed." He laughed and have her a high five whereas Ariadne scolded, "Hey now. I don't condone unecessary violence." Her daughter squinted sheepishly under the stern stare in the rear view. But it quickly changed to a smirk, "But that's my girl. Aim for the crotch next time."_

_"Alright. What do we want?" they pulled into the Smoothie place and the car paused in the line and with it safe to do so, Ariadne looked at Ender and Chloe, "I want black cherry."_

_Their mom pressed into the back of her seat as Ender leaned across to refresh himself on the menu outside her window. "I'd like to try the mango-peach today." From the backseat came Chloe's announcement, "Kiwi Melon, please!" _

_"Ok." Ariadne offered to Ender, "Want to bring one for Sam and Tucker? Kim says they love these too."_

_Ender shrugged, "Yes ma'am." _

_"Chloe," she called to the backseat as they moved up to the speaker, "Want to bring one for Gracie?"_

_"Yes ma'am. Same flavor as mine probably."_

_When the lady on the speaker asked for their order and Ariadne looked at him in askance again, Ender answered, "They'd both probably like green apple."_

xxxxxxx

The three men (well, two men and one boy) made their way backstage at the same time when the show was over but because of the crowds, got seperated. Thus, Eames made it backstage before Arthur did and was twirling Chloe in circles by the time Arthur arrived, "I'm so proud of you my darlingest Darling." Chloe had a bouquet of white and yellow flowers clasped in her hand and a bright beam on her face. Arthur tried not to let it get to him. After all, he'd been the first and only one to compliment and applaud her after all the other rehearsals and shows this weekend. He could share...but then again, those weren't the _last_ show. This one was special. And he was her daddy, he had the right to be the very first person she saw and hugged and rejoiced with after her accomplishment. Tonight's successful performance was a culmination of her seven weeks of hard work. Of the seven weeks of Arthur and Chloe's time together, the growth of their relationship. This was sort of _their_ experience. _Their _triumph. And Eames was shoving himself in the middle of it.

Chloe asked to be put down so she could hug Ender who lifted her off the ground in a bear hug of his own. When he put her back on the ground, he knelt on one and slid a giftbag towards her. "We got you something else." Arthur shifted on his feet in the background as Chloe squealed, pulled the tissue out and opened the package. It was a small Disney Palace Pets set: A sky blue and light pink pony figurine that could fit in Chloe's palm, handful of small accessories and because it was 'Cinderella's pony' a blue pumpkin to carry the accessories in. "Aw, thank you!" Ender was rewarded another hug around the neck and she scurried back over to Eames to hug his leg in thanks too. It was here that Chloe realized Arthur was backstage too and went skipping to him, holding her present up, "See my pony?" Behind her, Ender was collecting the trash into the bag and Eames was holding her other flowers for her.

"I do," he nodded and presented _his_ bouquet of pink roses from behind his back, "You were exceptional, Tiny Talesco." He'd given her a little candy after the other two shows but he'd saved the flowers for the last one so Chloe was surprised. She closed her eyes to smell their sweet aroma and when she opened them again, a small wrapped box was sitting in his hand in front of her face. They traded so she could open her gift easier. Her dad was phemomenal at gift-wrapping. The paper was red and glittery with no creases, just the sharp folds at the edges. And a large shimmering silver bow covered the expanse of the top. The little girl hated to ruin the masterpiece so she carefully peeled at the tape and pulled a blue velvet box from beneath the paper. Chloe's eyes cut up to Arthur's who urged her to continue. When the box popped open, she laid eyes on a golden heart locket with her initals engraved on it, "A locket..." she breathed, "Just like Annie's!"

"Yes, except it's yours."

"I love it!" exclaimed Chloe, enthusiastically tugging at the chain to get it out. Arthur's dimples couldn't help but show at his daughter's gratitude. He helped her put it on, had her turn so he could clasp the back. Then he let her in on a secret, whispering, "I bought a matching bracelet for your mom." She giggled and gave him a thumbs up.

"Alright, picture time! We have to document this moment." The Englishman interrupted, calling the kids over and then holding out his phone, "Arthur, would you mind snapping it for us?"

Arthur wanted to wring his neck but _for Chloe _he refrained and took it. Eames wrapped his arm around Ender's shoulders and Chloe hugged his waist. It made Arthur glare at the screen the entire time he was photographing them. He took a couple and may or may not have worried about them being fuzzy before he handed it back to his colleague with a leer. What pissed the Point Man off more, was that the millisecond Arthur stuck his hand in his pant pocket for his phone, Eames hurried the girl along. "Go on and change so we can grab a bite to eat before our flight." Chloe obediently ran off to change her clothes and grab her things and was back in no less than ten minutes. Of course, that ten minutes stretched to the point where it felt like thirty to the three guys breathing the awkward silence.

She emerged in dressy black shorts with ruffled black peplum coming together at a white bow at her waist band. Tucked into them was a plain white shirt with sewed on pearlettes at the neckline. Over that was grey-ish, utility style jacket, a star button and black bow pinned below the lapel on the left side. She left her hair in the bun because it was both faster and easier but her cowboy boots, ladybug backpack, and new locket and polaroid camera around her neck, rounded out the outfit. All three boys surrounded her to help with everything she was holding. Eames took her garment bag while Ender took her hair toolbox and cooler (which was actually Arthur's), leaving Arthur empty handed. "Is that going to be comfortable to fly in, Little Bit?" asked the Forger. Chloe only had dress clothes with her. A group of her closest friends (and Katerina!) had a nice goodbye lunch together earlier that day before being dropped off at the theater. They thought that'd be best since after the show everyone would be spending time with family or catching a plane back home and they might not get to say goodbye amidst the chaos and celebration. The same reason Chloe took pictures with all her teachers and friends _before _warm up...to ensure she got some. "It's all I have with me. I can change when we go get my suitcases and stuff."

"Ok," said he. A little girl ran by then came back and gave Chloe a hug. ('Bye Chloe, write me!') ('I will!') "Let's go then."

"Wait." Demanded Chloe, taking off the Polaroid and handing it to her 'uncle'. "I want a picture with my Daddy too." Arthur caught Ender's insolent eye roll from behind Eames' shoulder and wished the boy would've willingly jumped into the picture with them but just as well, Arthur threw a barely detectable vainglorious smile Eames' direction as he lifted Chloe to his hip and she kissed his cheek for the Forger sighed upon completion of his duty, letting the camera dangle by the strap in the air as he held it back out it her. Chloe remained clutching Arthur's neck with one hand as she put the camera back on with the other. She clearly didn't want to get back down—the girl asked Arthur to pick up her giftbags and bouquets and give them to her. Content, she looked at the other two, "Ok, _now_ we can go," and pointed towards the door, "Onward boys!"

Eames hailed a cab at the curb. As soon as one pulled up, Ender didn't hang around for chit chat, he put the items of Chloe's that he was holding down by Arthur's feet and disappeared into the back of the taxi. Eames turned to Arthur dismissively, "I think we've got it from here. Why don't you take the little one's things with you and we'll swing by to collect it all on our way to the airport?" It was a question but not really a question, seeing as he held his hands out towards Chloe expectantly, "Dinner shouldn't take long."

Chloe frowned and squeezed Arthur tighter, pressing her cheek to his adamantly, "Why can't Daddy come eat with us?" The Forger opened his mouth but before he could reply a way Chloe could tell was negative, she gave him the puppy dog eyes, "I don't have much longer with him."

Eames lifted an eyebrow towards Arthur more amiably than he'd acted towards him all evening, "Have any recommendations?"

"How about our favorite pizza place?" the Point asked Chloe and she concurred profusely. To which Eames sarcastically questioned, "Is 'Our Favorite Pizza Place' the actual name or are you going to give me an address for the driver?"

Feeling generous and no longer threatened (for the moment at least), Arthur kindly offered, "I have my car. I can drive all of us." He inclined his head forwards, "It'll save you some money."

Eames huffed in defeat and when he turned his back to rap on the window and call Ender back out, Chloe smiled victoriously at her dad.

xxxxxxx

_Saturday_

_Saturdays didn't have a set schedule, obviously, being the weekend and all. But this particular week was one Ender had been gearing up to. His school was hosting a swim meet and teams from all over the city were coming in for a tournament. There were local meets every couple weeks and at least once a month, Ender's team traveled out of the district and even out of the city but since his school was the host this time, it was a bigger deal to all of them. Ender swam twice in the time they'd been there (it started at two) and finished first in both so he was moving up on the leader boards and respresenting for his team wonderfully. A few of his friends had competed once each as well—the swimmers were rotating with each race and their team wasn't involved in every race until it got closer to the end. Only one school (Toby's school) had been eliminated completely thus far, poor things. Ariadne and Chloe sat up in the stands with the Price and Douglas families. Ender's friends, Sam and Tucker Price, took Tae Kwon Do with him too and Evan Douglas (the whole Douglas family actually) had been the Talesco's neighbors since they moved there. The three boys were best friends and often hung out and spent the night at each other's houses. That made the mother's—Ariadne, Kim, and Holly—good friends too. Kim was divorced like Ariadne (basically) was but Ken Douglas and Uncle Eames got along well when they were thrown together. Uncle Eames was out of town until the day before Valentine's though so Mr. Ken was out of luck. Surrounded by girls in the stand._

_Ender was on break; wandering around with a towel around his neck, drinking a gatorade. He waved across the pool to his mom and sister who eagerly waved and thumbs up'ed back. Ariadne hadn't needed to run into the firm or meet a client or anything that day so instead of her professional garb she was in something not quite but more her signature. Dark denim jeans...no holes or tears though, rolled at the ankle with casual white wedges instead of converses. On the top, a red blousey shirt, white three-quarter-sleeved blazer and lacy white scarf. Her affinity for those hadn't changed with the subtle maturation of her style. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun on her head in true mom-on-the-go fashion. Next to her, Chloe had on her 'mermaid' outfit to go with the theme of swimming. Her hair was neatly french braided into two pigtails. She insisted on wearing her aqua-colored romper which had tied into bows on the tank-style sleeves and had a glittery, sequin-y peplum where her hip line would be. Chloe accessorized it with a long silver necklace that had two blue beads that resembled bubbles and a pink seahorse charm dangling from it, short green ruffled socks and matching patent leather maryjanes. Chloe stretched upward on the bleacher to see who from Hurlingham and Chelsea School hit the clock buzzer first as Mommy reached in her pocket and answered her phone._

_Of course the curious child kept partly in tune to who Mommy was talking to and what about but she mostly leaned to the other side to see who out of the five swimmers were eliminated and then scanned for her brother and his reaction. The next group lined up on the starting boards. Ender wasn't one of them but she recognized two other boys who'd shrugged off jackets that had their school's logo on it. Chloe and Ender technically went to different schools as they were different buildings, different branches if you will—primary and secondary. But it was actually the same school broken up by grades. So his team was her team. So she cheered and rooted for them too as they took their positions. Someone's dad stood up in the bleacher below her and Chloe frowned. Mr. Ken helped her up by the hand to stand on hers and she held Penny above her head for extra eyes. At the turn of the first lap, the boys were second and fourth overall and they still had two more laps to go. Chloe bounced her heel in anticipation then she heard Mommy grunt in irritation and turned her head (and attention) towards her. "Are you kidding me? Well, I can't come in. No I told you weeks ago not to call or email or anything today." Ariadne's free arm crossed over her chest and propped the one holding the phone to ear. The woman's jaw was clenched so Chloe knew it wasn't good. "No. I'm sorry. It's my son's swim meet. I've never missed one, I'm not starting now."_

_Chloe peeked back at the pool to find the one in fourth had finished third and the one in second had finished first. They were both still in! Yay! She clapped a little, still listening to the Architect. "It _IS _a big deal, Richard. They've been working up to this since the beginning of the school year. They're up against nine other schools. All of us parents are supposed to take them to a special dinner after. This has been planned for months. I told you—" The little girl put Penny down and looked at her mom, concerned. In return, Ariadne smiled and patted her cheek. A silent 'don't worry about it'. The woman's smile dropped, however, "I know it needs to be fixed. I know. I know, Richard, but it's not my or my son's fault that Kyle is an IDIOT. I practically DID the work FOR him." Rolling her eyes, Ariadne covered the reciever and turned towards Kim, "When do the boys swim again?"_

_Ms. Price looked at the sheet that listed their names and estimated time of race. Both women's index fingers ran down as they scanned and then Ms. Kim added it up on her fingers, "Probably forty-five minutes or so? An hour if you factor in the judges' break." _

_Ariadne closed her eyes then reluctantly told the man on the phone, "I can come over for forty-five minutes and see what I can recover. That's the best I can do...you're welcome...fine. I'm on my way. Bye."_

_Ms. Kim had been listening is as well was quick to offer, "Stay as long as you need and do what you've got to do. We'll take care of Ender and Chloe. You don't have to worry about them."_

_Chloe's face fell after putting two and two together and realizing Mommy was leaving. She looked at the pool briefly when the buzzer sounded but it was less intriguing or important than Mommy's departure. Ariadne smiled trying to show gratitude and trying NOT to show her displeasure with the situation, "I know. I just feel awful about missing this—any of it—for work." She'd made a point never to put the job before her kids and so far had been successful. The mark to her record was depressing her. Making her think of a distant dream...a time long ago...a man in a three piece suit and a silver briefcase._

_"You might not if you hurry up and get over there," reassured the friend, "And if you miss a race or two, it'll be alright. Me and Chloe will text and keep you updated. Huh Chloe?" With that, the Architect slung her bag over her shoulder and pivoted towards her daughter. Standing on the bleacher, Chloe was taller, so Ariadne had to gaze up at her, her hands steadying the girl by her hips, "I'll be right back, Birdie."_

_Chloe pouted her lips, "Can't I come with you?" her voice so sweetened it pained Ariadne to turn her down but she did. In reply, Ariadne tilted her head and pulled one of Chloe's braids in front of her shoulder to fix the hairband at the bottom, "I think I could go back and forth faster if you stayed here." At Chloe's pitiful wrinkle of brows, the mother reminded, "Besides, Booger needs one of us here to cheer him on if I'm late getting back." Flitting her gaze to the pool, the little girl conformed and nodded. Accepted the matter and bending down for Ariadne to kiss her cheek before she went off, "Behave nicely, please. And stay with Ms. Kim and Ms. Holly. Don't go anywhere without them."_

_Telling Ender went better than Ariadne expected it. In fact, the boy was more ok with it than she was. "Mom, you're always here. I know you'd rather be here. If it's that urgent, I don't mind. You missing one meet isn't going to kill me."_

_"I'm not going to miss the _whole _meet," insisted the woman. _

_"But if you did..." he lilted, "It wouldn't be the end of the world."_

_"I—"_

_Ender deadpanned at her, "You're not Arthur. I know that. One time won't make me feel the same way about you that I do about him. Go mom, I still love you, I promise." He'd dried since his last swim so he pulled her into a hug and grabbed the keys hanging out of the outside pocket of her purse. Dangled them in front of her. She pursed her lips and grabbed them back, "I'll be right back."_

_"Says the mom who hasn't left yet."_

_"Do you have money for you and Chloe in case I'm not? Except I will..."_

_He nodded, "Yes ma'am." Then his hands shooed her, "Now off you go."_

xxxxxxx

Luckily, Chloe monopolized the discussion at dinner. She spent the whole time regaling Eames and Ender of her tales in New York. Of the mean brat Maia and the terrifying yet exhilarating process of auditions. She talked all about the apple orchards and Mr. Max and Ms. Baublit and how she thought they'd be perfect for each other...which segued into her plans to get them married. Unluckily (for Arthur), Chloe described the frightful subway experience...but then made up for it by expressing how awe-inspiring everything about seeing Annie on broadway was. The theater, the set onstage, the dancing, the singing, she even went into great detail about the bathrooms and how perfectly shiny even the toilets were. Eventually they were back at the penthouse, though, and her bags were hauled and piled by the front door. And the child was doing everything she could to prolong the time. She must've given Ender a tour of the penthouse ten times and gone to the bathroom twenty.

The twenty first time she skipped out of the bathroom, Eames stood from Arthur's couch and rounded them up, "Ender. Chloe. Let's get a move on. We can't be late for our flight."

Ender complied without falter. Put his suit jacket back on and headed towards the door to lean on it with hands in pockets. Realizing time was at its end, Chloe hugged Arthur's arm and gave him the puppy dog eyes, "I want Daddy to come with us." The man wanted to go with them too. Had a duffel already packed with the idea of following them in mind. It was his plan before he found out Chloe was his. Before he was reunited with Ender. He still had to speak with Ariadne, so why should he change his plans? He might as well go. He even had a plane ticket that'd been booked weeks before this very moment.

"Your mom doesn't want that," Eames intervened harshly. His pivot was sharp as a nail and his footsteps heavy and determined towards the door. Natalie said Ariadne wasn't aware in the slightest that Arthur had reached out again so how on earth would Eames know what Ariadne did and didn't want? The Point Man curled his fists.

"How would _you_ know?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and backtracked. Did he ask that outloud? No...not unless his voice was suddenly high pitched and girly. It'd come from Chloe who argued with face scrunched in defiance.

Eames put his hands on his hips, "I've spent the last eight years collecting evidence that would support my claim." Then pursed his large lips, "Now grab Penny and your backpack and let's go."

"Uncle Eaaaaames..." she whined beseechingly but refused, still, to release Arthur from her tiny hold.

Arthur stood up. Chloe was still hanging from his neck so he crouched low enough to set her down (against her desire). The Point Man protested loudly, furiously, and extensively. "Hold on a damn minute," both Chloe and Ender winced at the language, "you can't force _my _daughter to leave me, if she doesn't want to."

"Please," Eames chided, "I don't have to force her. If it came down to a question of Dad or _Mommy..."_ As if on cue, Chloe's head shot from Arthur to Eames at mention of her mother and then sheepishly rotated back to her dad as she gave in and took steps (slow as they were) towards the door. The figurative question answered. Chloe loved Daddy dearly but Mommy...Where Mommy was, home was. And she'd forgotten how desperately she missed the women for a while too long. Eames gestured towards the little girl with an expression that said 'see', "These two will always pick Ariadne." Emphatically, the Forger extended the handle on one of the suitcases and grinned facetiously, "You can stick to visiting every other year on holidays. That is if you can find us."

Arthur stormed to the table by the front door, "I know where they live."

"That's creepy," muttered Eames as he tossed a bag to Ender and quietly coaxed Chloe into putting her backpack back on.

Angrily, Arthur snatched the boarding pass he'd printed and laid out there and shoved in into Eames' face, "I was already planning a trip to North Carolina. I was already going to fly in and speak with her before I ever found out Chloe was mine."

At which Eames bursted out in genuine laughter, "Ok. Wow. Good luck with that, pal. Go on."

The Point Man challenged, taking a step forward, "You can't exactly stop me."

Surprisingly, Ender spoke up in favor of his sister and Arthur. Maybe it was because he was growing unbearably sick of the back and forth and wanted it to end, maybe because he didn't care who went where as long as they just GOT TO THE AIRPORT ALREADY, but he shrugged halfheartedly, "Uncle Eames, maybe Arthur should come. Maybe he could—" Chloe's eyes brightened at her brother.

"Are you daft, boy?" mocked Eames in disbelief.

Ender's sigh sounded more like a huff. He reasoned with his honorary uncle, adjusting the luggage he was holding, "I'm thinking of Mom. _We_ may not like the idea but I think she might. Who knows, maybe she would—"

The Forger didn't like that one bit. He scowled, "Like hell she would." Another of Chloe's bags was tossed over his shoulder and he went to move Ender over so he could open the door.

Ender consequently gave Eames a look after glancing back at Chloe. Clearly not liking that the man had cussed in front of his little sister. The boy slammed his back into the door to close it back and got firmer. Spilled the beans on the blonde without hesitation, "You can't keep him from her just because you're afraid she'll still love him."

Eames paled like a ghost. Stunned that Ender knew about much less commented on his feelings for Ariadne. And in front of Arthur no less. With the clench of his jaw and a cursory peek at the Point, Eames tried to cover over it by changing the subject. A little irate, a whole lot of flushed with crimson, "Don't talk to me that way. I'm responsible for the two of you and I say we're leaving. And he is not to see any of you."

Here, the boy got louder. His favoritism towards the Englishman rapidly swirled down the figurative drain. Ender was sure he knew his mother better that Eames. And he was tired of the man overstepping his bounds and pretending to be something to them he wasn't. He _may_ be like a dad to Chloe...perhaps he _was_ like a husband to Ariadne...but nowhere in the legal world was that official. Ender considered himself the man of the Talesco househould in Arthur's absence. Not Eames. So he reminded his uncle not so kindly, "You're not our dad. You don't have that authority over me or my sister."

"Your mother gave me the authority," he warned back with his eyes.

"And yet you're still not my parent," Ender maintained. Chloe opened her mouth to donate some attitude to the matter but Ender held up his finger and stopped her. She wasn't involved in the argument and even so, he felt the need for her to remain respectful. That's what Ariadne would want. Ender was breaking the manners rule but Chloe couldn't.

"Thank you." Arthur inserted, matching Eames glare for glare. If that man thought he could keep Arthur from his family he had another thing coming. He didn't need Eames' consent to come with them and ask Ariadne for forgiveness. Ender was finally on his side.

Ender whipped his stare around and glowered at Arthur too, "Neither are you."

Ok. Nevermind. Ender wasn't on his side. He was on no one's side.

The teenager ranted, looking back and forth between to the two men, "Neither of you read us bedtime stories or kissed our scraped elbows or helped with homework all these years. Mom did. Mom carried us by herself, had us by herself and has raised us _by herself_. We don't belong to anyone but her."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

_Saturday (later that day)_

_Ender swam two races when he got a very upset text from Ariadne saying she would be much later than she thought and was so so sorry. Since then, his team had won the entire meet and everyone had gone to dinner. Mom still wasn't back so they had to bum a ride home from one of the families. It was weird for Ender and Chloe because they literally had never done it in their lives. But since they hadn't, their attitude towards their mom was very forgiving if not a tad disappointed she'd missed the fun. Ariadne really got parties going. The Douglas' car pulled up to their driveway and halted. Ms. Holly asked for the third time from the passenger seat, "Are you sure you don't want to come and have ice cream with everyone?"_

_The siblings looked at each other, the younger one shaking her head despondently. Ender politely declined again, "No thank you. It's kind of mom's tradition to take us for ice cream after a big day. She's missed so much, she'll want to do that when she gets home." _

_The family waited with their headlights trained on the door until the Talesco children were safely inside then drove off. Ender brought his duffel into the kitchen and dropped it by the island before opening the fridge and grabbing a drink. Being in the water all day ironically did a number on your thirst. Above his head, he heard his sister ambling into her room, probably to put on something more comfy. Ender was already comfortable, having changed into dark grey sweatpants, plain black tee (with their School's logo monogrammed in white) and his team jacket before they left the pool house for dinner. His hair looked a mess because it'd dried without him combing back through it and he'd forgotten his goggles were still wrapped around the top of his head. But they were. The boy hopped up to the counter and sipped on his juice, studying the medal around his neck. Had he locked the door? Yeah. Had he fed the dog? No. "Barkley! Barkley, want some food?"_

_As Chloe bounded into the kitchen and stole a healthy gulp of Ender's drink, he was bent over the dog's bowl pouring in kibbles and bits. The little girl really hadn't changed. Only pulled pink and purple cupcake printed pajama pants over her romper. Even left her shoes on. (Ender left his by the door to keep the floor clean. Chloe was most likely gonna have to sweep what she tracked in when mom got a hold of her). He teased, "You know you're supposed take clothes off to put other clothes on, right?"_

_"Yes," she gave him a less than savory face, "but mommy's gonna take us out for ice cream so I might as well stay in real clothes."_

_"You might as well get comfortable," he suggested, "She's never done this; we don't know when she'll be home. We could not get ice cream until midnight or something." All Chloe did was blink at him. He didn't really care what she did so he shrugged and pushed his glass towards her for her to finish, "Suit yourself." He grabbed another glass from the cupboard and got the juice back out of the fridge. Two glasses wouldn't kill Chloe. Ok...door locked? Yes. Dog fed? Yes. Chloe alive? Yes. Messages checked? Nope. The teenager pressed play on the machine and poured their drinks as he listened and Chloe danced around the kitchen. The first was from Uncle Eames: "Hello, my loves. I miss you all. I know you're at Ender's meet so good luck, kiddo! I'm there in spirit! Butterfly kisses for my Little Bit as well. Anyways, looks like I'll be heading in a day early so get out the streamers and balloons. Call me back when you can Ari. I'll be in day after tomorrow. Love you dearly." The next was some telemarketer number or something: "Hello this is the highw—" _

_"Booger, will you watch a movie with me while we wait?" Chloe took her glass and pulled herself onto a barstool._

_He returned the carton to the fridge, "Sure," then curiously listened to the voicemail again._

_"We're calling whomever it concerns about—"_

_"Wanna watch Wreck-It Ralph or Frozen?" further questioned his sister._

_A little irritated that she kept talking over the important sections, Ender rushed, "You pick. Surprise me. Now shhh." Chloe joked, "Ok, ok," then hopped down and sashayed to the living room. With her gone, he could concentrate. He leaned as close to the machine speakers as possible: "—has been checked into Hammersmith Hospital after being involved in a horrible accident involving several vehicles. Return calls to this number for further information. Thank you." Oh God, Ender hadn't checked his phone for a long time. He fumbled for it and saw an unread text from six hours ago. _

**On my way back. Told you! :)**

_The boy sprinted into the living room where Chloe was watching the dvd menu for Cinderella and pulling off one of her socks. Ender pulled her off the couch, grabbed her one disposed shoe and Penny and dragged her to the front door, "Hurry. Put on your shoe and a jacket; we have to go."_

_"What?"_

_Since she wasn't fast enough, he grabbed the closest windbreaker and shoved her arms into it like she was a doll, "Come ON, Chloe. WE HAVE TO GO." Forget the second shoe, he put Penny under his arm and snatched her hand, pulling her out the already opened door. _

_"Ender!" The little girl protested, "We can't go! We'll get in trouble. We have to wait for Mom!"_

_Ender looked at her gravely and his terror finally registered for her, "Mom was in an accident. She's in the hospital." _

xxxxxxx

The three males momentarily forgot about the small girl in the room until she threw everything down and ran to her room in tears, distraught, "Then we're going to belong to no one!" Ender dropped his things and followed after her but the bedroom door was slammed in his face. "Chlo…" coaxed her big brother, softly rapping on the door. "Chlo, I didn't—" he stopped and met eyes with his Uncle. Arthur saw water build up and dilute the once vivid color of Ender's blue orbs. The boy knocked on the door again, "Chloe, please let me in. Please—" The knob was stiff when he tried to turn it showing it was locked. Defeated, he swallowed and rested his head on the door, "I miss her too…"

"What are they talking about?" Arthur skeptically asked, his head rotated somewhat. He almost afraid to know the truth about what they were insinuating.

The meanness, the jealousy, the protectiveness in Eames all went away. He sincerely sobered up and asked, "They haven't told you?" The flash of horror and confusion in Arthur's eyes was his answer. "My God, they haven't." Eames rubbed his forehead, "Ariadne was in a wreck five months ago. She's been in a coma since."

How many times could Arthur's world be ripped apart and turned inside out? He stumbled backward and had to sit against the arm of his sofa because his legs were suddenly too weak to support him. "Wait, she was in the accident with Shannon and Gerard?"

"Shannon and Gerard weren't in the accident."

Arthur shook his head in refusal, "No, I spoke to Natalie. She said they weren't home. They were in the hospital because of a family emergency. An accident." But she never said they were IN the accident did she?

Eames' head shook too, correcting, "Shannon and Gerard flew out as soon as Ender gave them the news. They haven't left her side. They've been living in and helping with the kids."

"Oh my God..." breathed Arthur. He slumped and looked the children. Well, Ender and the door. His son had slid down against it with his head in his knees and his shoulders shaking. No wonder the boy could barely stand anything but himself. Eames knew Arthur was sympathizing with Ender and Chloe on a whole new level and began to tear up, "We sent Chloe to ballet camp because it'd already been planned and paid for and we thought it would get her mind off the scarier things. She'd...poor baby, she'd started having horrific night terrors. Crying at the drop of a hat. She couldn't sleep, would literally scream for Ariadne non-stop all night, unless we gave her something to sleep or let her stay in Ari's room with her. And once we started that, we couldnt even drag Chloe out without her having an awful, blubbering, meltdown. We had to get her away for a while."

Arthur felt himself begin to heave with sorrow. He could barely choke out, "And Ender?"

"Not much better. On the contrary, he was handling it ok until Chloe left. Once he didn't have a little sister around to be strong for, he broke too. He's never been one to act out but he seems to do nothing but. He's constantly on edge. He sleepwalks at night, scours the neighborhoods for her missing car. And he's gotten worse since yesterday."

"Because of having to leave and come here?" Arthur fought to make sense through the haze.

Following a deep breath, Eames let his tears loose, "The hospital recently ran some tests and they don't think Ari's going to wake up. Ever. They told us just before we left for the airport that they're giving her another two weeks before they pull the plug."

"No…" the Point Man lost the rest of the strength in his legs and sat on the ground while Eames began to pace to cope with his sorrow. "There must be something we can do."

Eames shook his head both helplessly and resolutely, peeking at the miserable young boy leant against his sister's door, "I've tried everything, Arthur. And I mean everything."

Something clicked in Arthur's head and he swallowed the lump, forced himself to stand up, "We never signed divorce papers. Ariadne and I are still legally married. We had our papers drawn up and notarized together; she gave me durable power of attorney. I should be able to do _something_ even if it's nothing but extend her time while we FIND a loophole. Something, anything we can try."

Outlook completely changed, Eames ordered, "Better book a flight to London then."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

The four of them rode a taxi to JFK solemnly. Chloe's bags surrounding them because the trunk wasn't enough room for it all. Eames took the passenger seat while Arthur, Chloe and Ender squished in the back. Chloe in the middle. No sound but the blinker, the passing cars and the low tune on the driver's softmix radio: 'Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me...'

xxxxxxx

_Friday  
><em>_Chloe: School 8:15-3:30  
>Ender: School 8:15-3:30, Extra swim practice 3:30-5:30 (One time only. To get ready for the meet)<em>

_They always did something special for dinner on Fridays. This one especially because Ariadne wanted to keep Ender's anxious mind of his impending swim meet. He'd done well not being nervous all week but he was starting to stress so they picked up subs and crisps and fruit salad and headed down to Potters Fields Park by the River Thames and the London Bridge. It was one of Ariadne's favorite spots to go (and take the kids) when one of them was feeling nervous. Watching the lights of the cars go past and twinkle against the dark and the ships sail by was soothing to any soul. During the day, the park was usually packed. But at seven at night, they had it all to themselves save for a jogger here and there. Ariadne finished eating first and was sitting on the concrete of some sort of structure, swinging her legs, singing to herself as a boat passed, "...my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing."_

_Chloe heard her and looked up from her pickle. Ariadne didn't realize she'd been heard much less expect Chloe to join but she did, "Somewhere beyond the sea, she's there watching for me." The girl dropped her pickled on the plate and stood to twirl, "If I could fly like birds on hiiiiiiiiigh," then she ran and jumped into Ariadne's lap, "then straight to her arms, I'd go saaaaailing."_

_Raising one eyebrow, the woman stood them up and began swing dancing with the young girl. They clearly heard the music in their heads because they continued in perfect sync, "It's faaaar beyond the stars, it's near beyond the moooon. I knoooow beyond a doubt—" You'd think the teenaged boy would be too cool to join in but apparently he felt left out because he abandoned the heel of his sandwich, popped up, and shimmied funnily over to them, interrupting their harmony, "My heart will lead me there soooon."_

_Ariadne laughed as Ender made her handshake and crooned, "We'll meet beyond the shore," then turned to Chloe and kissed her forehead, "We'll kiss just as before—"_

_In response, Chloe dramatically fainted on the grass with her hand on her hand, "Happy we'll be beyond the seaaaaa."_

_"And never again," their mom cut in and pulled Chloe back to her feet, "I'll go sailing."_

_"BUMBUMBUMBUM," Ender sounded like the brass of the real song and slapped his legs to the correct beat, all of them hearing the drums of the actual music in their heads. The two girls danced and side-stepped and snapped to the boy's best rendition of the instrumentals. And when he climbed onto the concrete and marched along it like an entire band as he did so, Ariadne and Chloe scrabbled on and followed him down the length of it. He jumped off, Ariadne jumped, then the mother turned around to assist Chloe in toe-touching off. In a flourish, Ender dropped to his knees and pretended his fist was a microphone, "I knoooooow, beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soooon."_

_Ariadne joined back in on the song, "We'll meet!" As Ender stood back up and twirled both his mother and his sister on either side of him, Chloe adding, "I know we gon' meet!" And both girls together sang, "Beyond the shore," while Ender rolled them into him. _

_"We'll kiss just as before," he crooned in an exaggeratedly deeper voice. Kissed his mom's cheek and his little sister's before rolling them back out. The three of them belly-laughed (Chloe now piggy-backing on Ender and Ari crazy dancing with both of them like they were one person), singing acapella (but imagining an accompanying orchestra) at the top of their lungs, "HAPPY WE'LL BEEEEEE BEYOND THE SEAAAAAA—"  
><em>xxxxxxx

Melancholy, Ender lilted along with the radio under his breath, "—And never again, I'll go sailing..."

His little sister looked at him understandingly. She remembered their last perfect memory with Ariadne and she both hated and loved the song for reminding her of it too. Wordlessly, Chloe rested her head on her big brother's shoulder and in turn Ender rested his head on hers.

xxxxxxx  
>xxxxxxx<p>

One of these days, I'll stop throwing twists at you guys. *winces*


	18. Isn't Eames

I know. It was a long wait this time. Oopsies.

_neverlandspirit: _you guessed? Dang it! Haha...we'll see where the story takes itself. I won't promise butterflies and rainbows just in case. _Kellouka2: _I know! Crazy right? I was so excited to get to this section of the story cause I knew what was coming and it was like a ricochet of BOOM, POW's. Honestly, me too. But unfortunately in real life nothing's perfect and Eames was intent on making this difficult for everyone and falling in love with and pursuing our fave Architect :/ Thanks! _Bookwormgirl: _I'm sorry. Tragedy makes stories good lol. Good point. I have siblings as well and there's always fighting but I think the age difference between them helps. And keep in mind that A) the flashbacks so far usually pull from the happy memories of Ari and the kids and aren't like a 24/7 recounting of their lives thus may seem like all unicorn happy-ish so if you want to imagine they have tussles, sure thing. And B) they totally fought and yelled when he came to take her away from Arthur. Thanks for the input though! I think you'll enjoy this chapter. _Lauraa-x:_ I know :( makes everything sadder when you go back and read all the times Chloe's mom is mentioned in earlier chapters. And exactly right, I think that was the catalyst for Chloe's little adventure. LOL don't worry Eames pissed me off too. Your assumption of Eames' feelings is completely well-founded. Jealousy makes people act stupid. Welcome to Arthur and Eames' relationship in this story. _Guest: _Here is issssssssss! Thank you friend! _Dave the Octopus: _Hi Dave, I'm glad you think it's great. Here you go. _Guest: _FEAR NOT. IT'S BELOW. _Random Child: _Hahaha I'm sorry. _Dude Named Dude: _Hello...Dude? I'm guessing it's Dude. Haha. I don't know, but I'm happy you've found it now. I sincerely hope this chapter with prolong your life a bit. Thank you for reading and reviewing! It really does help motivate me! _Anyone can fly: _OKKKKKKKKKKK. No worries. I don't take it as whining. It's taken me a little longer to update this time. Holiday hours at work and all. Please don't break! Here's a chapter!

_Deanluv1234 _and _ : _Thank you for the favorite and follow of this story. You guys are MVP's.

**Chapter 18: Isn't Eames**

_"Uncle Eames..." He thought he heard someone whisper against the swirly black backdrop of his eyelids but it was so low it could've easily been his own breath rushing out of his lungs. Disregarding it as a trick of exhaustion, the aforementioned readjusted his head on the pillow. "Uncle Eames..." it repeated louder, this time with a shaking of his shoulder. It hurt to pry his eyelids apart but he did so and sat up on his elbow. In front of him was a very short brunette in a tweety bird nightshirt that engulfed her, fuzzy socks and a trusty mint colored elephant under her arm. The shirt could more accurately be called a dress as it hung past her knees and almost off one shoulder. The first few times she'd worn the ensemble to bed and then woke him up in the wee hours of the morning, Eames had to do double bleary-eyed takes—the nightshirt and socks were both from Ariadne's pajama wardrobe (though she was exponentially shorter than Ariadne and the Architect had never carried a stuffed animal or called him Uncle Eames). Shannon suggested Chloe wear it during one especially brutal night of nightmares and she tended use it frequently. On the whole, the family (including the kids) agreed to keep Ariadne's room untouched and unused but on really bad nights, sleeping in Ariadne's bed was the only way Chloe could sleep...so they let her. Some mornings they'd even find Ender asleep in there. "What is it, Darling?" _

_They hadn't gotten her to fall asleep until midnight and this was now the second time she'd padded worriedly into the living room. Chloe lowly requested, "I want to go back to the hospital."_

_Here they go. Eames took a deep breath to prepare himself, for these were always stressful and tricky situations. He always hated the first few seconds she looked hopefully at him because he knew he'd have to shut her down. And no matter how gently he did it and how often she'd been told the answer, she still had meltdowns, "It's too late."_

_"I want my Mommy," Penny got squeezed to the child's chest as the child furrowed her eyebrows indignantly._

_"I know but visiting hours are over;" Eames cautiously reminded, sitting up and swinging his legs off the couch to rest on the floor, "They won't let us in."_

_The short breaths started and her eyes started welling up, "Please, Uncle Eames." When she started asking him and begging him, he never failed to feel guilty. Here this kid was, believing he had the power to make everything alright but that he just wouldn't do it. "I need her."_

_Eames cupped her cheek in an effort to pacify her, "We'll go first thing in the morning, I promise. As soon as they'll allow visi—"_

_"No. I need my mom—I need my mom right now," Chloe began to ramble at the same time her tears started to fall freely. Her eyes started to dart all over the room and her body tensed up. "I want my mom now." About a week ago was the three month mark of Ariadne being in the hospital and since then everyone's anxiety had gone through the roof because of the woman's lack of health progress. As to be expected it had a more traumatic effect on the children. Chloe had been having nightmares from the start but now she was developing anxiety attacks; Shannon was taking Chloe to her pediatrician at the start of the next week to see if they could get some medication to take when it got really bad. See what they should do about the impending ballet camp in New York that'd been planned and paid for. On the one hand, they weren't keen on sending the little girl off in her emotional state. Being even farther from Ariadne might make her worse. But then on the other hand, Eames and both Ariadne's parents thought it might be smart to get her focused on getting ready for that...and getting her away from everything for a while. "I need to see my Mommy! I want—I—I—I want my MOM!" She covered her face. The Forger tried to pull her into a reassuring bear hug but the little girl shoved him off and ran for the door. The front door._

_"Chloe," he hopped up. Threw the covers off and tripped on the pool of fabric in the floor trying to go after her. _

_"I'll go by myself!" Chloe had unlocked the door, set off the alarm system and gotten halfway down the driveway when Eames scooped her up from behind, "Chloe! You can't g—"_

_She kicked and elbowed and thrashed while he effortlessly (but also with thorough displeasure) carried her back up the driveway,"_Please _Uncle Eames! Please!" Upon return, several overhead lights in the house were on. Shannon stood in the middle of the living room, in a powder blue robe, hugging herself and watching with concern. Ender was squinting at and disarming the alarm system before the police came. (One person always stayed at the hospital and tonight that was Gerard). Eames continued to carry her further into the house instead of putting her down. Her arms outstretched towards the door and the driveway, "Mom! Mommy! LET ME GO! MOMMY!" _

_She was as loud or louder than the sirens. That is until they abruptly stopped and Ender slammed the front door closed and hollered at her, clearly moody from his disrupted sleep, "Chloe, they don't let anyone in at night." _

_Eames finally put her down and she buried her head into Shannon's stomach to sob, "They let people in the emergency room all the time! We can go in there—"_

_"No we can't!" Her brother argued, "And no matter how much sleep you make us all lose or how loud you cry, we can't see mom until morning!"_

_Chloe's red, puffy eyes, turned away from Shannon and pleaded with her brother, "But I want—"_

_"It's not always about YOU!" Ender stormed closer, ignoring Eames' pinch on the bridge of his nose and Shannon's visual cue to take it easy on the younger child. "In case you've forgotten she's MY mom too. I've had thirteen years with her, you've only had eight. I'm probably more upset than you are!"_

_At that, Chloe folded her arms and marched to stand right in front of him. She looked at him as mean as she could and said, "You SHOULD be! It's YOUR fault!"_

_"It's no one's fault," inserted Eames but no one was listening._

_Ender's eyes were blown wide with the anger of accusation. "No it isn't!" hissed the boy._

_"If Momma hadn't been so worried about missing YOUR stupid swim thing then she wouldn't have rushed and got in an accident!" _

_"SHUT UP!" growled Ender, shoving Chloe back onto the couch and then getting reprimanded by both his grandmother and fake uncle for it. "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" The surprise of it and the mood of the whole debacle made Chloe dissolve and sob harder. To which Ender took one of the pillows and hit her with it, "Stupid crybaby." He got more stern scoldings and Eames even started towards him but the boy stomped upstairs and back to his room. _

_Later, after Chloe was given a natural supplement to calm her and help her sleep, Shannon checked on him. Ender was still awake. Sitting with his back against his bed and his knees to his chest. Red rimmed eyes. Tear tracked cheeks. Scrunched face staring at his wall. "Are you ok, Sweetie?" Shannon got down in the floor with him and patted his leg. _

_"_Is _it my fault?..."  
><em>xxxxxxx

Chloe and Ender sat in the row in front of Eames on the flight over. Arthur managed to get a seat on the same flight (through cash and some prodding) but was two rows back from Eames and on the opposite side of the aircraft. He wished he'd been closer to the kids but it was probably best that he and Eames didn't have to sit next to each other on an overnight flight to London. _England. _Honestly, that was a shocker for Arthur. Of course the possibilities were endless, there were tons of cities and towns she could've gone to and any of them randomly picked just to make sure she wasn't tracked down. But when Ariadne left and cut him off he figured she'd move near her parents—somewhere in the Carolinas or at the very least somewhere stateside. Then he toyed with the idea of her moving somewhere else in France. She loved the culture, the language, everything about it. She was of French descent therefore so were the children, she had distant family scattered through the country. It'd make sense for her to be there. Then there was Canada…it had both the English and French elements to it. It was close enough to the States so she could visit her family often. Those were the top three countries he imagined her seeking solace somewhere in. He never guessed she might've gone to England. Not that that was too farfetched or outlandish an idea to have—he'd sooner guess England than Germany or India or somewhere—but…Arthur didn't know. Maybe it was the fact that England was sort of Eames' domain that ruled it out for him.

That was something else weighing on Arthur's mind ever since the fashionably challenged Englishman popped back into Arthur's life in obnoxiouvly vivid color: Ariadne and Eames. _Uncle Eames. _Obviously, he had been in Chloe and Ender's lives for a very long time. The Forger was their fatherly figure. Regardless of whether or not he and Ariadne were…involved (which Eames acted like they might be)…Eames was their consistent male presence, it was natural for him to take on that role in their eyes. Arthur couldn't blame Ariadne for moving on—reflecting on the length of time that passed...the effects of his broken promises...the needs of the kids. She had to turn to someone. Better someone she trusted. But was it better that it was someone he knew? Arthur perhaps preferred a stranger.

Most of the plane was asleep. In fact, the Forger was conked out (probably because of the two drinks he had). Up ahead, Arthur could see the bright blinking on the tv's in front of Ender and Chloe—some sort of version of Snow White from what he could tell. Ender's foot was propped on his knee under one of the complimentary blankets pulled up to his waist. Chloe's blanket covered her from where it pooled on the floor all the way up to her (and Penny's) neck and her head was rested sleepily on Ender's arm. They shared earphones on Chloe's insistence. It was easy to hear everyone's conversations on a plane. Whether it was being held several rows up or behind you. It was a confined space and voices traveled, especially when most passengers were asleep or silently tuned into their inflight movies.

Arthur heard Ender sigh, partly perturbed. It sounded like he was second guessing putting up a fight against his Uncle Eames and inviting Arthur along, "Mimi and Papa are going to have a cow when we walk in with Arthur."

"Why?" Chloe asked, still engrossed in the screen, distractedly putting handful of barbecue crisps in her mouth. Ender was really talking to himself but since the conversation was opened, he answered, "He's not their favorite person since he and mom separated." Yeah, Arthur wasn't anyone's favorite since then.

The little girl didn't comment for a moment. Perhaps she was waiting until the intense woodland scene was over and it transitioned to a scene with a bunch of boring exposition. Whether she was or not, she picked her head up off her brother's shoulder, "Uncle Eames seems...mostly ok with him."

Ender tugged the earphone out of his ear and took a sip of the cup on his tray, "You're obviously blind. They can't stand each other."

Chloe shook her head and suggested with mouth full, "I think they're just shy. You know cause they haven't seen each other in a long time."

"Yeah because Uncle Eames is such a wallflower..."

After swallowing, the little girl shrugged, "You never know. Mimi and Papa may not mind..."

Ender dove his hand into her crisp bag and stole some. The boy's quick consumption of them facing the aisle, Chloe's gasp of irritation and the resulting chuckle made it clear that she hadn't planned on sharing. "Just watch. The second Papa lays eyes on Arthur it's going to be World War Three."

Chloe leant forward, paused the movie and focused all her puzzled attention on her brother, "Why don't you call Daddy: 'Daddy' instead of 'Arthur'?"

The Point Man wondered the same thing. I mean he didn't set his hopes on being called something as sentimental and cutesy as 'Daddy' but he didn't exactly predict being called strictly his first name either. Why didn't his son at least call him 'Arthur Dad' like he used to when he was younger? "Because he doesn't deserve it." The boy whispered harshly, "Just because he's our father doesn't mean he's our dad."

Chloe's gradually high-pitched confusion was genuine, "Isn't that exactly what it means?"

"No. We share his blood. We came partly from him, that makes him our biological father. But he hasn't been around to raise, guide or take care of us therefore he's not our dad. Think of it like the kids that are given up for adoption—like the Wheelers, you know them. Who do they call Mom and Dad? Mr and Mrs. Wheeler. Not the strangers that live in Brighton even though those are technically their parents." Arthur both liked but hated to say Ender sounded exactly like him in his reasoning. Factual, realistic, logical.

"Ok. But you don't have to be so mean to him." Chloe sat all the way up, making the blanket fall off her shoulders to her waist as she defended the man, "He's missed you. _And_ mommy."

"Yeah right." Arthur couldn't see but he was sure his son's remark was accompanied by an eye roll if his tone held any inclination.

"He has," she maintained firmly, "He's told me."

Ender chided under his breath, "Well aren't _you _Daddy's Little Angel?"

Even though Arthur had heard her speak it back at the penthouse the night before, it still came as a shock to hear Chloe easily transition from fluent English to fluent French, "Porquoi es-tu en colere moi aussi?" Arthur wasn't fluent in the way his children or Ariadne were but having lived in Paris for a chunk of time he knew a heavily sufficient amount to understand most conversations. And Chloe had asked her brother why he was mad at her too.

Again Ender disdainfully muttered, annoyed by her, "You have a relationship with him. Je ne pas."

The little girl shrugged sympathetically. She couldn't help it…"Je suis desole." If it made her brother feel any better, the entire time Arthur thought she was only his niece, she felt eclipsed by the mere the idea of Ender. Arthur had no idea who she was—she was his kid too but he only knew of Ender. He only talked and fawned over and missed Ender. There was a special place in Arthur's heart for Ender and for a very long time, Chloe didn't think there was room for her own special place. She didn't think she would ever mean as much to Arthur as Ender did. But she did! And dog-gone-it, it wasn't fair that Ender made her feel bad for cherishing that.

But the reason was because Ender felt the reverse. Arthur had taken the time to get to know Chloe like he'd never done for Ender. When it was only Ender, Arthur didn't care. He left. And now all of sudden Arthur knew about Chloe and he was some grand family man. All of a sudden he wanted to come back and be 'Daddy'. It was almost a slap in the face for the boy. He felt like it meant that he wasn't enough for their dad but Chloe was. He didn't feel like he would ever have the relationship his sister and biological father had…they'd lost too much time and Arthur simply didn't have the interest. The boy swatted Chloe's hug off, "Ne me parlez pas," and headed for the bathroom.

xxxxxxx

Ariadne had long been moved from the emergency center at Hammersmith Hospital to Charing Cross' Thames View center. They were a leading facility in complex surgery, neurosciences and neuro-rehabilitation and the best private healthcare money could buy without moving Ariadne miles away where the kids either had to live out of a hotel for however long or just go long periods without visiting her at all because of the distance. The group of travelers took no delay and journeyed straight from the airport to the hospital. As soon at the multi-towered building came into view, Chloe got antsy and traded places with her brother so she could press her face to the window. She'd been greatly distracted from the matter at present for seven weeks...that wasn't a bad thing. In fact, that was a very, very, good thing for her. But before she left, it was rare if Chloe went two consecutive days without going up to the hospital and it'd been something like forty-nine. The span of time she'd spent without seeing Ariadne was now adding up in her head and making her anxious to get there.

For that reason, the Forger dropped them off at the front entrance and Ender and Chloe went up ahead of the two men. "Well good morning Talescos," one of the regular nurses at the desk smiled at them as they passed to get to the elevator.

Ender politely returned her remark, "Good morning Ms. Tabitha," whereas Chloe rushed a wave (in which she smiled but barely looked at the woman) and darted towards the elevator. "It's good to see you back, Chloe." The little girl continued to jam her thumb against the button and answered over her shoulder, "Thanks, you too." Ender swatted Chloe's hand off the panel, "Stop, you're going to break it."

Immediately on getting to the hospital room, Chloe hurried around to the other side of the curtain so she could see Mommy but her path was blocked by her enthusiastic grandparents standing up and opening arms for welcome hugs. She glanced at Mommy's bed but knew she could wait a couple more seconds. Chloe had missed her grandparents too, "Papa! Mimi!" While Ender gave their grandpa a less urgent embrace, their Mimi clutched Chloe, her cheek to her granddaughter's, "Oh, my babies. I've missed my little birdie so much."

They switched. Chloe being enveloped by Papa and Ender being squeezed by Mimi. When Papa let go of Chloe she ambled over to her sleeping Mommy in the hospital bed and let out a contented sigh as her head rested on the woman's stomach. Ender had only been two days without seeing Ariadne so he was less desperate for sight and contact than Chloe, he rested his hand on his mother's foot. The elder man questioned in general, "Where's Will?"

"He's parking." Ender commented, smoothing the wrinkles of the hospital blanket. Then in a flash, he remembered who else was parking. There was a limited amount of time he had to ensure there wasn't a blow-up of awkward and detrimental proportion. If he didn't at least warn his grandparents that his biological father was there, they (especially Papa) would have a conniption. "Oh, me and Chloe have to tell you something before he gets up here."

Mimi looked between the two children and then at door as if Eames was there but he wasn't. "What? What happened?" Had he hurt them? Had he been hurt? Had he been unpleasant?

The boy confessed, "Chloe found out about Arthur. Well actually she literally found him. In New York." His little sister acted like she wasn't expecting it. Her eyes shot open and gave him an incredulous 'you ratted me out?' look from her spot on their mom.

Exactly as he predicted, Papa got up in arms. Mimi was shocked but she showed it with a slackjawed gape, a hand on her heart and dumbfounded silence. Papa showed it by a minute flex in his jaw, crossed arms and a halfway troubled glance at Chloe, "Excuse me?"

Chloe sheepishly stood up from Ariadne and played with the woman's fingers as she mumbled, "It's a long story…"

Ender rushed to explain everything and get to the part they needed to know, "She cancelled her dorm and hunted him down. I didn't know about it 'til I showed up for the show. Thing is, she's been staying with him this whole time and he—"

When Gerard's intent gaze rose from Ender to a point behind him and filled with blatant dislike and intensity, the boy knew Eames and Arthur had arrived before his Papa ever opened his mouth and grated, "What is he doing here?"

Apparently Arthur remained at the doorway because only one pair of footsteps entered the room and it was Eames who appeared from behind Ender's shoulder and stood in front of the Bourgeois' with his head low and his tone pacifying. Of course, Eames wanted to be on Ariadne's parents' good sides. And bringing this man in was five million brownie points exed off his point-sheet. Regardless of what the kids did or didn't want, Eames was the adult. He was technically the one they sent off to be in charge and that ultimately made Arthur suddenly appearing, his decision. Gerard was going to rip him a new one as soon as he was done with Arthur. "We thought he could help with the legal stuff, at least." Eames implored, his hand on Gerard's back, "Believe me, I'm not ecstatic about it either."

"Papa—" Even Chloe could sense the murderous aura radiating off her grandfather and attempted to quell him as much as she could.

"Get him out," growled the man. Arthur fidgeted in the doorway and averted his eyes to the tune of Shannon petting her husband's arm and coaxing, "Gerry...let's not—"

"He has no right to be here." Obviously Gerard's side was where Ariadne got her temper from. Because Arthur could see where she got those anger mannerisms all over the man. The cutting eyes. The energy (negative but still) harnessing and charging up in his core and then bursting out in fireballs when he couldn't control his volume. Gerard pointed at Arthur, "I want you OUT of my little girl's room before I call the cops!" Chloe looked at her dad in horror while even Ender tried to slow the spew of contempt, "Papa, he's only—"

In response, Arthur lifted his hands in surrender and backed a step into the hallway. He was a reasonable man, if Arthur could just get him to listen, "Gerard—"

Hissing, the man cut him off, "That's Mr. Bourgeois to you, scumbag. Get out." Arthur swallowed but took the hit with resilience. Bowing his head humbly, Arthur backed out of sight. He went a little further down the hall and leant against the wall while the family worked things out. Unlike with Eames, Arthur respected Gerard's protectiveness and possessiveness of Ariadne. She was his child like Chloe was Arthur's and Arthur had hurt her. He'd hurt the whole family. It wasn't surprising to recieve a reaction of that nature from Gerard, just startling because he'd never seen Gerard irate much less at him. They hadn't spoken since before Ariadne and Arthur split. Since once of the last times Arthur was home and three Talescos visited the Carolinas for Thanksgiving. This was the first time in contact with each other since everything went to pot. And what made it worse was that Arthur and Ariadne's parents had really gotten along famously. They loved him. Trusted him. Had a great relationship with him. He knew what happened had felt like betrayal not only to their daughter but to them as well. Her parents were not only hurt for Ariadne but hurt themselves. Arthur heard Shannon change the subject in a rush, "Did you all just fly in? Are you hungry?"

Ender cleared his throat awkwardly, "Bloody starved to be a bit honest."

"Breakfast on the plane was gross," added Chloe without a beat between her and Ender's answers. Arthur could sense the unease in that room from feet away.

"Gerard…" lilted Shannon, "Why don't you and William take the children to the cafeteria and feed them?" Her question almost certainly was not a question. It was a firm suggestion. An urging that didn't leave room for a rejection unless Gerard wanting a row between he and his wife as well. There was an exasperated sigh. Next thing Arthur knew, Gerard, Eames, Ender and Chloe filed out of the hospital room and down the hall towards the elevator. In passing, Mr. Bourgeois scowled at Arthur. Ender awkwardly followed with ducked head and roving eyes over the floor. Chloe threw a shy grimace at her dad and Eames...well Eames just ignored him as if Arthur was part of the wall. The elevator had come, swallowed them up, and gone when Shannon peeked her head out of the hospital room, "Arthur?"

He looked up from his shoes. In truth, he was just as if not more wary of Shannon's response to his arrival than he was of Gerry's. True, Gerard had the wild temper but Shannon had that quiet sense of controlled resentment. Whereas Arthur feared Gerard's outrage, he feared Shannon's disappointment. The difference was like that between the booming yell of your father telling you to go to your room (or hell in this case) and then that one silent look of warning from your mother as she reaches for a wooden spoon. It was like the difference between knocking on a door and hearing a rotweiler tromp around the house and bark and the rotweiler coming to the door, standing still with eyes fixed on you and growling low with bared teeth. It instilled a different fear. The woman stood into the hallway with him and gestured for him to follow. Shannon wasn't warm or welcoming by any means but she wasn't kicking him in the shins and insisting he leave (and never come back) too. "If you want to see her, I suggest you do it while Gerard is occupied."  
>xxxxxxx<p>

"_I don't know why you don't like the six bed in Wimbledon. You could all three have a bedroom and then use one for guests, one for a home office and one for the kids' playroom." Shannon suggested towards the iPad set up on the kitchen table. Natalie and her mother were over baking treats with Shannon while the men were out hunting. The women were facetiming with Ariadne as they mixed batter. The Architect had finally decided on London as her next city of origin. After a lot of research on a lot of options. She'd been staying with her parents for months now but took a week's trip over to England to lock down a place of residence before she was too far along in her third trimester to travel safely. At this point, she was not even a week into it so her doctor cleared her for a short period of time. By then she didn't want to have to worry about anything but preparing to have the baby back home in the Carolinas. On the screen, they saw Ariadne in her hotel room. She talked to them as she was brushing her hair and slipping on a cardigan. Her baby bump was unmistakable nowadays and more so in the dress she had on. Because of the rainy chill in England she had on a extra thick pair of tights underneath the dress. "I didn't say I didn't like it. I said I wanted to be in Hammersmith. It's closest to the firm Miles referred me to and I want Ender and eventually the baby to go to West London Free Primary. They say you have a better chance of getting in if you live right there."_

"_Hammersmith is more expensive though," reminded Ariadne's aunt Karen. _

"_It's fine. I can cover it," Ariadne assured, "I just want to pick somewhere and sign papers before I leave...Once the baby is born I want to have somewhere ready to go. Not still be up in the air."_

_Natalie looked up from her baking sheet and called out, "We'll find something. You have plenty of time."_

_Shannon (who had stopped everything to sit at the table and carry the weight of the conversation, of course) pointed at her daughter, "Don't you stress yourself out too much. It's not good for the baby."_

_"I know," Ariadne tilted her head. Then she called behind her to the little boy on the bed who was drawing in his coloring book. "Hey Booger, come here and let me fix your hair." Shannon asked if Ariadne had officially decided on a name yet as Ender obediently bounded over to Ariadne's side. Ender was in black shorts, a thin navy blue pullover sweater rolled up to his elbows with a white collar peeking out of it and his black loafers. He let his mother comb through his hair while she talked, "I like maybe Lexy Beth or Chloe Marie. My friend Eames suggested Eugenia Snicket. Pretty sure he was kidding but I still said absolutely not." _

_"Oh, I love the name Marie!" exclaimed Shannon. And Aunt Karen amusingly grinned from her spot at the counter. Helping Natalie spoon batter onto the pan, "Is that after Marie Antoinette?" With Ariadne's lifelong affinity for France and her French heritage came an obsession with Marie Antoinette and the Palais de Versailles from ages eleven to sixteen. _

_Ariadne nodded, "Well yes," and squatted in front of Ender to belt his black trench coat (which could double as a raincoat). It was a good excuse not to look at them. It was awkward enough confessing to the coat material: "And both Arthur's grandmother and great great grandmother on his mom's side were named Maria." Thankfully Shannon was quick to move the conversation along instead of letting Ariadne's thoughts wander back to and stew on Arthur. "Well, I think that's a perfect choice then. And it'll go with any of the other names you've picked. Even Eugenia..." _

_Ariadne stood and wrapped it up, "Ok, well, we've got to go. Ender and I are meeting up with Eames to look at some places in Fulham."_

"_I thought you wanted to be in Hammersmith," Natalie teased._

"_I do…" Ariadne playfully glared back, "Fulham is basically right there. We'll see. I'll talk to you guys later. Love you." They all chimed back with 'I love you's and 'good luck's. All addressed and bid farewell kisses and winks to Ender too. He waved at the screen, "Bye Mimi, bye Nat, bye Grantie! See you soon!" (Karen was technically his grand-aunt like Shannon was his grand-ma. All by himself, one day he decided he'd mush grand and auntie together and since then called Ariadne's aunts Grantie K and Grantie Helena). After his goodbyes, Ariadne ended the call and Shannon's iPad went black. Karen reflected on her niece's behavior, "She seems ok…_

_Shannon did and didn't agree as shown by the look on her face as she closed her tablet case. "She's busy. And too worried about finding a house in a week to think about anything else…thank goodness." Ariadne was yet to be anything resembling ok. Her and Arthur's wedding anniversary was coming up near the end of the month and she'd been in need of a distraction. It was tough enough for Ariadne to get used to the idea that her marriage to the love of her life hadn't worked out and she'd left Arthur forever...the pregnancy hormones and the impending anniversary she'd spend alone (a different kind of alone than before) were making it scores and scores harder for her to get through the day. Just then someone knocked on the door and Natalie volunteered to answer. When it opened, "Arthur?" a desperate Point Man barged in and began pacing through the living room. "Um, excuse you," chided the girl._

_He continued to search from ceiling to floor with eyes and gaited into the kitchen. Looked at the all the brunette women and hoped he'd see a shorter, more familiar one among them. "Arthur?" Shannon nearly tripped and dropped the batch of cookies she was putting in the oven, "What are you doing here?" _

"_Where is she?" Arthur didn't demand like he had on the phone with his father. He wasn't even very loud. He didn't speak as if he expected any acknowledgement of his question. They might've thought he was talking to himself if not for the beseeching gaze that was slowly being drained of optimism. _

"_Ariadne and Ender aren't here," Karen was both quick and brusque in her response. Between Ariadne's mother and two aunts, Karen was most stern and uppity. She didn't slack on the snobbish attitude here either and gave him a dirty look as she shut the oven door for her dumbfounded sister. _

_Arthur implored, following their movements with his head as they bustled about the kitchen in an anxious and irritated frenzy. "Can't you tell me where she's gone? Or any way I can contact her?"_

"_No." Natalie rejected, walking into the room. _

"_Please," he took hold of Shannon's arm as she went to grab wax paper and spread it on another baking pan, "I know she's talked to you about this. She had to have. A big decision and life change like this—you would be the first person she went to." Then he switched his stare to Natalie, "And you'd be the very next."_

_His wife's mother licked her lips and avoided his eyes, "I'm not denying that."_

_Tilting his head, Arthur averred, "I _need _to find my wife and son. I need to make things right."_

_Karen shook her head. Dusted her flour covered hands off on her apron, "Should've made things right a long time ago if you ask me."_

"_You don't have to give me an address…give me a general vicinity. Tell me a country and I'll go city to city, door to door myself. Give me a P.O. box I can leave a message at. Anything. Any scrap of information I'll take with sincerest gratitude. Please…" rasped the man. _

"_I'm sorry—" Shannon backed out of his grip, trying to busy herself with something. Anything to keep from looking him in the dispirited eyes._

_Arthur announced to whole room, "I know I don't deserve her and Ender. I know I screwed up…but I love Ariadne and Andrew with everything I am, you all know that. I can't fathom surviving another ten minutes without the two of them. I haven't been able to sleep or think since I came home to our empty house. I understand that you despise me but—" _

"_Arthur, listen to me," Shannon interrupted gently, "We don't despise you."_

_"Speak for yourself," glowered Natalie._

_Shannon was disappointed in him. She was very upset with him for Ariadne's sake. But she also had a sympathy for him no one else had. She hated the things he'd done but she remembered one crucial fact everyone else seemed to overlook: Ariadne was the be-all and end-all love of his life as he was hers. There was no denying that. Arthur would never intentionally cause ruin to their relationship, never purposefully break her heart. Shannon couldn't believe otherwise because it was impossible. But more often than not the ones we shouldn't hurt at all are the ones we destroy. More often than not, the ones we love most are the ones we simply cannot coexist with without pain and chaos. Lovers abuse the power of adoration and use it as reason to keep harming one another and let themselves be harmed. As much as Shannon hated the choices Arthur had made to lead he and Ariadne to this, she hated to tell him she wished it could be rectified but might be better the way it ended up. "You have been part of our family for years now and feelings like that don't change quickly. You are a decent man, I know. And as much as I wish the two of you could work things out—if not for you and Ariadne's sake, then for Andrew's—Ariadne is my daughter and my loyalty is to her first and foremost. If she doesn't want me to relay any information to you, then I can't and won't. I'm sorry."_

_He guessed as much. Still, he had to try. Dejected, he reasoned with himself that there was no point in ramming against a rock that wouldn't budge. No point in offering a heartfelt farewell either. So, pursing his lips (in a gracious smile towards Shannon), he returned the way he came. Except this time, his eyes wandered towards the dining room as he passed and recognized a child's train set on the table. And a box of Architecture books...and Ariadne's favorite throw blanket draped over one of the chairs..."I thought you said they weren't here?" Karen refused to give him any more time of day but Shannon was going to see him out and Natalie had followed for reinforcement (curt reinforcement that really was only to make sure Shannon didn't cave). The women stopped in their tracks behind him. "These are their things." Arthur couldn't help but turn and give them a look of suspicion after Natalie cussed beneath her breath. They'd forgotten that a great majority of her and Ender's things were stacked in there. Thank goodness all the baby shower gifts were upstairs in Ari's old room. Ariadne hadn't left ANYTHING in their house but a book and a note so Arthur was justifiably eclipsed with wonder at the plethora of her belongings strewn all over the place._

"_I didn't say they were never here," Shannon smartly pointed out. "You were right; she came home first. She shipped everything here; we're keeping it while she travels and decides where she's going to go."_

_Solemnly, Arthur took two of his fingers and moved one of the miniature train figurines around the entirety of the track. He then enclosed it in his hand and cut his eyes up towards the ceiling like he was listening for the quietest tip-toe, the faintest whisper, or the slightest creak of the floor. "If I gave you my word," following a deep breath, he returned the train carefully to the exact spot it'd been in by the tunnel, "If I promised not to make a scene. Not to go running and looking through the house. Not to beg to speak or see them. Not to wait in my car across the street and watch the house for sign of them..." That definitely garnered Natalie's interest. Her eyebrows rose. Shannon's head inclined, giving no clue as to her reservations or lack thereof. "...would you please tell me truth? Are they here? Are they hiding from me?"_

_He ran his fingers around the edge of the closest box during her reply, "Truthfully. They aren't here. They aren't even in the state." And then his eye caught a square of silk royal blue silk. Small white polka dots. And his hand gravitated towards it like a magnet. It was the very first scarf Arthur bought for her, one of her favorites. Before he knew what he was doing, it was bunched up and held over his nose. It was still doused in her scent—in vanilla and pencil lead. All his memory could scrounge up was the last time he saw it: clutched in her hand as she fled the bathroom to avoid him the morning before the day he left. Then all of a sudden, minutes had passed, he was hunched over the table, and the scarf was soaked with his sorrow. _

_He remembered himself. Remembered the company he was keeping. Embarrassed, he immediately straightened and wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his suit, "I'm sorry for intruding," he bowed his head once again. Not only were Shannon and Natalie staring at him in a mixture of sympathy, shock and confusion about what to do...but Karen had made her way into the room and fixed him with a deadpan. Now it was his turn to avoid _their _gazes while he hastily put the scarf down and headed for the door. "I'll show myself out."_

"_Arthur," he froze with his hand on the doorknob. When he turned, strangely it was Karen who was a step behind, holding out the silky blue item, "Keep it." Her features were softened by tones of pity and her voice kind, "I won't tell."_

xxxxxxx

Shannon didn't wait for him to make his way back down the hallway because she was sure he would follow. When he entered the room, she was sitting in a chair against the far wall by the windows. Waiting. Supervising, he supposed. View of Ariadne was obstructed by a light sky blue curtain hanging from the ceiling, pulled around her bed like a circular shield. The Point Man was terrified of what he'd find behind it. What condition she was in. Eames described the specifics of the injuries inflicted on Ariadne during the crash, after they'd dropped the kids at the door and went to find parking. Her head had a gash. Not from glass or metal but from the sheer force of her head hitting the driver's side window. Her neck had been cut by her seatbelt but not too large or deep. She sustained two broken ribs, a broken nose and two black eyes as a result of the air bag. A shard of the car door had to be removed from her side but thankfully hadn't penetrated deep enough to puncture anything vital. Last of her wounds was a broken arm, the one that was closest to the driver's door. The other car had slammed into her side at the point just behind the driver's seat and her car had spun until the back end hit a light pole. Had the other car hit any further up or had Ariadne not worn her seatbelt, she would've died on impact. And thank God she hadn't let Chloe go with her or the little girl would've been killed in any variation of the scenario.

In the beginning, Ariadne was unrecognizable. Swollen, bloodied, mangled. Chloe wasn't allowed to see her the first month after the crash because the sight was deemed too traumatizing for her. They would've applied the same rule to Ender had he not unfortunately already been exposed to Ariadne's condition. The day of the crash, the Talesco children were virtually alone. Uncle Eames was out of town visiting an old friend and even on the first flight he could catch back home he didn't arrive until the next morning. The soonest Ariadne's parents could get themselves there was by the next night. The Miles' whom the kids called Poppy and Gammy were the closest and wasted no time in hopping on a train. After Ender's frenetic call they were at the hospital within an hour and a half. By roughly eleven o' clock pm—but Ariadne had been in emergency surgery since three o' clock that afternoon and was placed in a private room in the intensive care unit for close observation not even an hour after Ender and Chloe showed up at the hospital. His little sister was asleep in one of the waiting room chairs when the doctors came and spoke to him. They advised he not see his mother in her state but being his father's son he stubbornly demanded otherwise.

And then he wished he hadn't. Ender couldn't spend a full minute in Ariadne's room before he was down the hall in the bathroom, throwing up and hyperventilating at the same time. Sure, Chloe had awful nightmares but she'd only seen Ariadne after the blacks and blues turned into healing shades of yellow. After the casts had been reduced and her bones had mostly reset. After the swelling went down and the stitches no longer looked bloodied. Ender's night terrors were much worse. He frequently sleepwalked through their neighborhood, dreaming his mom's car in ditches and trying to pull her out. That's partly why they turned the alarm on without fail every night and why Uncle Eames slept on their couch...to keep an eye out for the boy.

But anyways, at this point, it'd been months since the accident. So Ariadne had healed tremendously; She looked back to normal from what they could see on the surface. Now it was only her brain that wasn't functioning properly. Despite fear of the present unknown, Arthur pressed on as if under a spell and pulled the curtain back...Eight years since he'd laid sight on her. Ariadne _did _look different—more her age (still not quite at the mark though), more matured by parenting. Maybe it was a matter of the mind and knowing how long it'd been—but at the same time, she looked just the same. Just as snarky and ethereal and passionate even when she was unconscious. The Architect laid peacefully, turned on her side (towards the door, on the good arm); they turned her body periodically to keep her from developing nasty bed sores. A mask covered her nose and mouth to facilitate a normal breathing pattern and all sorts of wires were hooked up to her heart and fingers and wrist. There was a scar on her forehead two inches long by her hairline on the left side, one that was one inch wide just under her collar bone and a barely noticeable bump on the bridge of her nose indicating where it had once been broken.

Those thousands and thousands of times Arthur had imagined their reunion...all of various ways he dreamt they'd meet again...and like this was never one of them. He couldn't truly call it 'reunited' though. Couldn't convince himself that he'd found her yet. Arthur was in her glorious presence, yes, but her consciousness—her mind and heart—were still unobtainable. She had no idea he was there. It was more like looking at a picture of her than it was being with her again. No creamy caramel eyes looking into his, no curve—neither up or down—to her sweet mouth. The Point Man could beg and apologize but Ariadne couldn't hear him even if she wanted to. It ached to think she might never know he'd scraped his way back. Never know just how much he regretted accepting her selfless offer and leaving. Never know how much he hated dreaming for swallowing him up in its intrigue and making him lose sight of what was important. Making him lose her and Ender and Chloe. He might never get the chance to tell Ariadne how often he looked back at that night and wished (to the point of giving himself a migraine) that his last words hadn't been a flirty goodnight and a cheery goodbye—

Arthur's hand stretched towards hers hesitantly. Shyly. To think he'd once caressed every inch of her without pause or uncertainty and now could barely bring himself to brush his finger against hers and not worry over consequence. He'd lost the privilege to venerate her with his hands, after all. Why he held his breath like he was preparing for a dive when he made contact, he himself didn't know. But it did feel like he was coming up for air again after eight years suffocating underwater, eight years of struggling towards the surface, when the pads of his fingers felt her smooth skin. The delicate pulse point on her wrist just as he remembered it in the Paris warehouse; the first magnificent time he ever touched her. And her breaths came just as evenly, she slept just as peacefully, her cheeks just as flushed as they were on that rickety lawn chair. In a time when they were still young, still daredevils. And the future of their relationship was vast and promising...because he'd yet to make promises he was going to break. And here was another vow crumbling: on their first date in the park, he said he'd be the Mal. That he'd be the one lost deep in his head and she'd be awake with the two children she thought they were obviously not ready for at the time. All these thoughts accumulated such a heavy weight that Arthur had to drop to his knees to compensate. His head curled just beneath hers (to where her chin pressed into his forehead) and both his hands greedily clasped one of hers and clutched it against his cheek.

—but that they had been: "I love you, I love you, I love you." He didn't notice that he was weeping or that his teardrops were running down her arm and soaking the hospital sheets under her elbow because his eyes were shut tight. Because he was so lost in his mantra. In his, "Oh God, Ari..." and his "I'm so sorry"'s.

Shannon let him be for a good length of time. They'd all had episodes of the same kind at one point or another and in spite of what the others believed, she thought it fair he have it out too. But while time stood still for Arthur, it still passed for the rest of the world and Gerard, Eames and the children would be back any minute. "Arthur, they should be done eating by now," she'd come up behind him and patted his shoulder, "You don't want the kids to see you like this."

Nodding, he pushed against the bed and forced himself to his feet, instantaneously apologizing to the Architect's mother, "You don't know how sorry I am for doing this to all of you. For Ariadne being in the accident."

"You didn't cause it," she patted his cheek as a mother would her son, "You were as far away as any of us were when it happened."

"Exactly," grit the Point, "If I'd never left. We'd have been together in Paris. She would've never been in London for the crash in the first place."

Tilting her head, she counter-pointed, "And if Helena had never bought Ariadne legos when she was six, Ariadne probably wouldn't have wanted to be an Architect. And she wouldn't have wanted to study it abroad in Paris and she would've never even met you. And I wouldn't have the gorgeous grandchildren I adore."

"If it weren't for them I'd have half a mind to go stand in traffic and make it even."

"Mimi! I brought you a slice of blueberry pie! They only had one left and I know it's your favorite." Chloe bounded in, proudly displaying the wrapped plate. Arthur hastily took his hands and wiped at his face, sniffing one last time and putting his mask back on just in time for Chloe to pivot away from her grateful grandmother, hug his waist and look up at him, "Aren't you hungry too, Daddy? They have spaghetti."

Next, he heard Gerard behind him. From his reluctant and irritated tone, Arthur gauged that the man had been persuaded to tolerate him as a means to an end, "So. You're here to help. And how do you suppose you'll do that?"

Arthur turned in full Point mode, hands behind his back as he relayed information and explained his plans, "I'm going to get in contact with our joint attorney, Jay."

Gerard folded his arms over his chest, "We've tried talking to him. He said he can't legally give any information to or negotiate with us. He's only spoken with the doctors."

"Yes but when Ariadne and I got married we signed healthcare proxies that gave power of attorney to each other. Since we never properly divorced, we're still legally married. And I still have legal authority to prolong her life support. I can overrule her doctors' decision." And if Mr. Bourgeois would've let Arthur get a word in edgewise when he arrived...Arthur would've recieved a more cooperative disposition and he would've gotten a hell of a lot more gratitude in the man's eyes a hell of a lot sooner. Eames leaned against the doorway, trying not to look too uneasy about the fact that Ari and Arthur were still technically married. He was extremely grateful that there was a way to get Ariadne more time, he was just not extremely excited that it was due to the Point Man.

Arthur grabbed his laptop satchel, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get of hold of him again. I'd like to fly him in by tomorrow afternoon at the very latest and put him up in the hotel across the street and that'll be difficult if he is unaware of the plans." He adressed everyone but looked specifically at his son and daughter. "I'll be in the waiting room down the hall if you need me."

xxxxxxx

They all considered the day a productive one because Arthur had eventually gotten in touch with Jay and booked everything. It was getting late and visiting hours were almost over. Only a max of two people could stay overnight in Ariadne's room and besides the fact that they couldn't let one child stay first instead of the other, both Ender and Chloe hadn't been home since they'd flown in and all the adults agreed it was best to take them back to the house. "I'll stay tonight, in case any of the tests come back with updates," Gerard offered. Both he and Shannon had stayed in the hospital while Eames and Ender were in New York for Chloe so his overnight bag was already stocked and there but he insisted that his wife go back and sleep in an actual bed for the night.

She didn't argue, she'd like a nice bath and some coffee that wasn't hospital blend. Arthur was in the midst of packing his satchel. He was going to see if he could get a last minute room at the hotel across the street or a rent by the week apartment down the road and then rent a car so he could chauffer the attorney back and forth. Chloe was fast asleep in the recliner in front of the tv and it was a silent agreement to let her sleep, carry her, and let her wake up in her room via waking her up and causing a scene like they were kidnapping her as they dragged her to the car. Eames was shoving his wallet in his back pocket, "Shannon, why don't you go ahead and take the kids home? I'll drop Arthur at whatever hotel and circle back to stay with Gerard."

Ender piped up from his seat on the edge of Ariadne's bed. Cutting his eyes up from the game on his phone, "I think Arthur should stay in our house." Now, Gerard was ok with Arthur being in and around the hospital because that was necessary. But to be in and around the home? He didn't belong there. Eames had the same idea...he was befuddled, "Where are you going to put him?" Shannon and Gerard were making use of the guest room and the Englishman wasn't about to let Arthur share with anyone. And without sharing, there wasn't any room except... "Your mom's room? Because I can tell you that's a big fat no."

"On the couch," Ender's eyebrows raised (just like the Architect's would've done) like his uncle was having a brain fart and missing what was right in front of his nose. Because he was...

"He'll hang half off."

The teenager shook his head, "No. Not the thing in me and Chloe's hang out room. The couch in the living room."

With emphasis, Eames pulled his jacket on and pulled on the lapels to adjust its fit, "_I'm _using the couch."

Ender cast a fleeting glance at his Mimi and then, confused at the sheer creation of a dilemma when there was none, squinted at his honorary uncle, "Um. You live two doors down. You could go back to sleeping there."

The man replied, also casting a glance at Shannon (and Gerard) for back-up, "We all need to stay together."

These sort of instances were when Eames really grinded on Ender's nerves. When he made things more difficult than need be and insisted he be a part of things that weren't necessary for _him _to be a part of because of some weird claim he felt he had on them. Ender knew he meant well. But he wished Eames wasn't so adamant about his place in their lives sometimes. The boy sighed, "Then I'll sleep in mom's room and he can have mine. He's helping us out, it's not right to make him pay for a hotel."

Arthur went to express that he'd rather not intrude against their (Shannon and Gerard, most definitely not Eames') wishes and didn't mind spending the money but then his sort-of-ex mother in law inserted, "I agree."

Eames put his hand on his chest, "Then _I'll_ pay for it. Ariadne wouldn't want him in the house."

"How would you know?" Ender chided sarcastically, "Have you talked to her recently?"

Dipping his chin, Eames pointed towards the woman on the bed, "I know what she would be comfortable with and she wouldn't be comfortable having him there."

"You're right, she wouldn't be comfortable. She probably wouldn't _really _want to offer," agreed Ender, "But she would still insist."

"Gerard—" the Forger looked at the man incredulously. Grasping at straws for any kind of reinforcement. He knew when Ender's ire for Arthur failed, Gerard's would remain intact. "I'm with Will," he held his hands up in a 'sorry but not sorry' type of way, "I don't want him there."

Here, Arthur held up his hands in surrender as well, "I don't want to cause a feud. I'll stay in a hotel if that's easiest."

"Thank you," Gerard accepted the decision in the same breath that Shannon shook her head at Arthur and argued, "No, I'm with Ender. It's not about what we all want. It's about what _Ariadne_ would _do_. She'd be hospitable. Especially to you, no matter the level of awkwardness it put on her."

"Ariadne woul—" Eames raised his voice so loud that Chloe stirred (but luckily didn't wake up). Her brother twisted over his shoulder and lost his temper with the Forger, "Stop arguing. You're not in this conversation. You don't have a say here."

The Forger reared back. Ender had been unnaturally moody and edgy since Ariadne's crash. Mostly, the man overlooked it because he knew it was the stress manifesting itself in Ender's attitude and realized that the boy would never be so disrespectful in normal circumstances. But in front of Arthur, it both embarassed and enraged him. "Excuse me? I won't have you talking to me in that tone of voice, Andrew."

Ender gaped, almost amused, "What are you going to do?"

"Ender," warned his Mimi.

He continued like he hadn't heard her. Cocked his head and smirked, "Ground me? You can't. In case you weren't aware, my last name isn't Eames."

"ENDER," his Mimi now scolded.

Still, he pressed on. Fueled by his genetic Bourgeois temper, "Ever since mom's crash you've been acting like you're her husband and our father. _You're not_."

"ARRETEZ, Andrew," Gerard took a step forward and barked, "Ou sont tes manieres, mon fils? That's enough."

Relenting, Ender backed down and dipped his head in obedience. Let his normal demeanor take hold of him once again. "Desole, Papa." He looked at Arthur but talked like either the man wasn't there or he was deaf. "He's not my favorite person on the planet either but he should stay with us instead of in a hotel. That's the _right thing_ to do. It's our house and I think, therefore, our decision. I really believe that's what mom would do in our position and I'd appreciate it if you all supported my proposal."

Gerard glared hard at the floor but eventually caved, "Oui, I guess you're right."

Following a gracious nod of his head at his grandpa, the boy turned remorsefully to the Englishman, "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you and voicing a disrespectful, misplaced opinion, Uncle Eames. You don't deserve that from me. Especially after being so good to us all the time. You _are _very important to us and mom."

"It's alright, Darling," lovingly declared Eames as he pulled Ender into a bear hug. "We're all at our wits end and taxed with worry beyond belief. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting too."

Shannon motioned for Arthur to scoop Chloe up and quietly urged as she slipped her bag onto her shoulder and handed Ender the backpack he brought in, "I think we should get a move on before Chlobird gets a second wind and refuses to go home."

Xxxxxxx


End file.
